The Point of No Return (The_PG&Malicious Lullaby)

The sound of her alarm was one that was making her want to take her head, remove it from her body and throw it against the wall. One would think she’d simply do that with her alarm clock but after the amount of shots she took the night before after her shift at The Spot, removing her head was a lot easier than tossing her alarm clock. Normally, she had set to the alarm and the radio. This morning, it sounded like a cross between Chicago’s tornado alarm and someone croaking a really poorly written and composed song. Or a thousand crickets falling out of harmony.

Her hand flashed out from beneath the coves and she pressed down on the snooze alarm with a certain force, she hoped not to hear the sound again. It was a difficult task getting out of bed, especially since it felt like she plopped into it about five hours ago. Most likely it was because of the fact she did that very task. Sure, actual lawyers probably got less sleep and since she was just a runner, she should be pretty damn lucky to still get five hours of sleep. However, it was also because she bartended a few nights a week at the bar and on nights she had a long day at the firm. Things just sounded and felt worse after a big round of shots which easily shook off the edge and exhaustion from a long day. Although right now, it proved a bad idea, seemingly amplifying the exhaustion as opposed to alleviating it.

Although it was nothing new, waking up a bit hung over and heading right into the firm. She did it often and no one seemed to be wiser, except for Bree Larkin, her department manager.

Her eyes peeked open, thinking maybe it was really Saturday and she was off. No, it was Friday but what set the alarms inside of her head was the time. She was supposed to be up at 8:00. It was 8:30 and she had to be at the firm by 9:00. “Shit.” It was amazing at how quickly she moved when she was on a time crunch. In the shower in less than thirty seconds, clothes flung everywhere and out of the shower within five minutes. Her hair was sopping wet, her hang over seemed to be cured from the cold water and she looked all bright eyed and bushy tailed, better than ever, like a brand spanking new shiny toy.

In fifteen minutes, she was out of her hole-in-the-wall apartment tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her hair tended to be rather unruly and unforgiving when it wasn’t properly groomed to submission. She forced it into submission by tying it into a ponytail, as pristine and neat as she could possibly get and the past few years of her bad habits taught her how to properly apply eyeliner in a hell of a rush, and impeccably too. Donning a long sleeved white blouse with black pinstripe slacks, her matching pinstripe blazer was on the passenger seat and she was speeding her way to the firm, narrowly missing being pulled over by a cop. A start to a good day.

Upon arriving into the firm, she took the elevator to her floor, the fourth floor, to put her things in her little miniscule cubicle and she hoped to avoid Bree Larking. The continuation of a good day. Until of course, she passed by her desk in a haste and the woman had her on her radar. Her head snapped up and she tapped her desk before clearing her throat. “Late again are we? Maybe someone needs to stop partying so hard the night before work.” And thus began a really bad day. “Do you intend to make this a habit Miss Martin?”

That was her. Esther Martin. Runner by day, bartender by night. Normally, she was never late. She was always on time, always arriving to the firm fifteen minutes before she was actually due to be there so she’d never be late. Same with her job at the bar. Today was technically the first day she had ever been late. Bree liked to think otherwise. There might have been once upon a time that Bree Larkin was nice to Esther but that lasted about a week when she first started. Since then, she made her life a living hell. Esther said nothing about it. She was a runner. Who would hear or care for her plight? A senior partner? Yeah, that’s as likely even if pigs could fly.

“I work two jobs Bree.”
“So?”
”This is the first time I’ve ever been late and I’m only late by…” She glanced down at her wristwatch and only mildly cringed. “Fifteen minutes.”
”Fifteen minutes in which the lawyers have not yet received documents necessary and their colleagues around town are probably close to firing someone down in the mailroom. All because of you.”
Esther cringed and she nodded her head. “It won’t happen again.”
”Damn straight it won’t. If it does, you’re fired.” Wouldn’t you just love to fire me, you bitter bitch? But of course, Esther didn’t say any of that.

“Here’s your stack. Get to work. Don’t take a lunch.” Once more not saying a word, Esther took the stack of papers and documents needing to be delivered and she went about her job. This was how it always was. Even if she was on time, she suffered some sort of rude remark from Bree, whether it be her appearance, her work ethic or something, even if it was really nothing. What was really embarrassing and made her worried for her job here was when Bree would lash out at her for nothing, as if purposely timing it when a partner, lawyer or senior partner would walk by. Runners were the lowest of the low, next to mail interns. Above them, probably only the lawyers’ assistants and the hierarchy would continue. Only at the very top sat the lawyers and partners.

While she worked, she felt her phone buzzing in her pocket but didn’t check it right away. They weren’t call buzzes. They were text buzzes. Someone was blowing up her phone. Only when she took a quick trip to the bathroom did she check them. They were from her friend and ace reporter, Abby. They were childhood friends, went to college together and while Esther couldn’t make it as a teacher, Abby was soaring high in the city newspaper. She was still in the basement but after her first article which landed the front page, it was a dead given that the world of journalistic reporting would need to be on the lookout for Abby. She was a journalist star on the rise. Esther was happy for her. If there was anything Abby was the best at, it was being a nosy reporter, fearless and didn’t think of repercussions or consequences.

Deciding to message her later, Esther went about her work at the firm. The remaining papers and documents needed to be run to a couple of firms across the city so she went to do that. When she finished, only then did she stop by the newspaper and popped into the basement, under the pretense of being on her lunch. Sure, Bree said not to take a lunch but she’d be back in no time. Finding Abby in, she knocked on the open door. “Hey.”
“There you are! I have been blowing up your phone!”
”I know. It’s so nice of you.” Abby gave her a mock laugh. “What do you need?”
“Juicy news. But I am so busy, I don’t even have a moment to tell you.”
”Oh? Tell me what?”
“Later. Come tonight. We’ll have wine and I’ll tell you the latest.”
She looked at her reporter friend with a quizzical brow. “Your firm is involved.” And that piqued her curiosity well enough.
“I’ll be right over after work.”

Esther air kissed her cheek and then left, heading back to the firm. Walking inside, Esther did her best to avoid Bree. She really should stop, since it was impossible. She was noticed, found and bitched out for taking a lunch break when she specifically told her not to. It caused Esther to cringe again, especially when a partner walked by just as Bree called Esther a series of names that doubted her competency. How convenient. That took longer than expected, getting to this reprimanding. Maybe she was doing better.

Still, she went about her day like her ego and confidence hadn’t been bruises—as difficult as it was—before she eventually was let out. Before she left, she checked in with a good friend, Mallory Joyner. She was the assistant of the youngest senior partners at this firm. It was an amazing feat. The other two senior partners were well into their forties. Not him. Mallory always gave her the gossip, a recurring soap opera in their opinion considering the rumors of his line of women, flavors of the month as they called them, and the fact he was the city’s most eligible bachelor. He really was something, both girls fancied him, but they admired from afar. Well, Esther admired from afar. Mallory had a sort of up close and personal relationship. She was his assistant after all, although she was adamant about it being strictly professional. If there was something Mallory wasn’t, it was being reduced to another office cliché.

After making sure with her that she didn’t need anything done, Esther left and went to Abby’s place, having stopped a liquor store on the way to pick up a cheap bottle of red and white. Upon walking to the front door of her apartment, she was stunned to find the door open.

“Abs?” She called out, opening the door further and poking her head in. She saw Abby’s gray cat meowing in the corner and frowned. “Hey Rumple.” She walked in, shutting the door behind her and the gray cat ran to her and nuzzled his ears against the side of her leg. Putting down the chilled bottles of wine, she picked him up and gave him a little scratch behind his ears, causing him to purr rather contentedly. “Where’s Momma, hmm?” Letting him down, she continued on her search, checking all rooms. Abby lived in a far better place than Esther. Not so much a hole in the wall. She actually had two bedrooms, always trying to convince Esther to move in with her so she wasn’t saddled with too much rent. Even Abby knew that the last thing she needed was more bills but Esther declined. Sure, she had enough on her plate but she prided being able to live on her own. She liked it. Even if it was lonely sometimes. It seemed only right after her mother passed away right out of college.

Coming to Abby’s bedroom, she pushed the door open a little bit before walking in, although she stopped immediately, frozen in her tracks and her eyes widened. Blood, more blood, even more blood splattered over the walls—wait was that a brain chunk?—blood smears and then a body, right there in middle of a duvet. Clothes ripped and strewn about and Abby’s lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. Esther would have screamed if she had a voice. Instead, she turned cold, as if she was having an out of body experience; she couldn’t move.

It felt like she was on autopilot when she called the police and ambulance, reporting the murder. It felt like she wasn’t even really there when the police questioned her. People who lived in the complex were gathered around behind the police caution tape and Esther was now sitting on the stairs, Rumple in her arms and she was absently stroking the back of his ears.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, her hands shaky, cold as ice. “Hello?”
”Oh my stars, Esther, I just heard!”
“Oh, Mallory.”
“Esther, are you okay?”
”Um…” Her eyebrows furrowed like she was really contemplating that question and answer. “I don’t know.”
”Look, I’ll call my boss and let him know.”
”N-No, Mallory you don’t need—“
”I’ll be right there Esther. So will he.” She hung up and made the call.

The police officer came back to Esther, wanting to get an official statement. Her head was spinning, she looked confused and didn’t understand. It was as if it hit her but it hadn’t really sunk in. The more the police officer insisted on her statement, badgering her and pushing her, the harsher reality hit. Abby was dead. Abby was gone forever. Her best friend, the girl who was like her sister, her other half—gone. There was no bringing her back. The reality set in and she snapped out of her trance and looked up at the police officer with tears in her eyes.

Esther wasn’t normally a girl who showed emotion. Too much happened that allowed her to close things away easily. She didn’t let herself feel. It was easier. She blocked it all up when her mother died, never truly grieving. She was trying her hardest to block it all up right now but she couldn’t. The pain from losing her mother and now losing her best friend was too overwhelming. People always left, she knew that. But why did the people she loved most dearly always leave her?

Pratt Xander Ellison III woke slowly as he always did at five in the morning. From the bedroom of his multi-million dollar penthouse he watched as the first rays of morning sun drifted over the city skyline. The lines of blazing light sliced through the big bay windows that overlooked the busiest and most happening part of the city. They drifted slowly throughout the room until settling, it seemed, on the figure sleeping next to him. A slow grin spread over his handsome face as the memory of how they met, how he seduced this new 'flavor' as he had overheard his secretary discussing with a worker bee at the firm. Then how they'd partied, and fucked popped into his head. The grin grew larger and he lifted the covers that were currently hiding what he had explored late into the evening the night previous. The cool air rushed over creamy skin, and goosebumps spread rapidly enough to wake his prize. She blinked, clearly confused, before remembering. An embarrassed smile crossed her pretty features, one that Pratt returned.

"Back ta sleep luv," He said softly in what remained of his clipped Irish brogue.

It had mostly disappeared like the rest of his ancestry. He did not have red hair, or freckles on his face, over the generations they had faded away. So to was the accent, but that was the one thing that Pratt clung to with typical ferocity and ease. It made him stand out, the ladies loved it, and men thought it made him friendlier than he truly was. The fact was, it was hardly a brogue, it more sounded like a high classed British politician trying to pander to those in the north. Fortunately Americans did not have a very good ear, and Pratt knew better than to try and pretend in front of anyone who actually was from the 'old country.' It was something or someone like his great-great-great-great grandfather who had come over in a boat. Five or six generations ago, even Mr. Ellison II was not sure, and Pratt's father had also taken pride in his heritage. For the son, he took as much pride in it as was useful, and that was enough.

The distraction for last night fell back asleep, and Pratt shifted out of the bed smoothly. The lightest of ache's was behind his eyes, but that was another part of his heritage that his own body clung to without any conscious thought, he could drink most men and almost all the ladies straight under the table. The next day was never painful for Pratt, simply more annoying or less. Today was more. Last night had come with a bit of a meaning behind it, drinking to forget, and drinking to loosen up, he had been tense, but it would all be over today. That fookin reporter! His mind snarled as he slipped into the shower, having been nude almost the entire previous evening. The hot water eased both muscles, the ache behind his eyes, and the ache between his legs. Then it finally began attacking the remaining bits of guilt and anxiety that had settled into his gut. By the time the shower was finished and Pratt was mid-way into his morning workout routine the feelings were entirely smashed.

He was eating when the sexy... Hairdresser? No, that was the other night. This one was a college student, she majored in Art? Art. Now if only I could remember her name... Jessica? Amber? Michelle? Katie? Ashlynne? Kaitlyn! "Mornin to ya Kaitlyn, how'ja sleep?"

The sleepy nod was followed by a yawn, and then a rather meek question, "Bathroom?"

"Just down te hall der. Dey'll be some grub on ta table. Yer gonna have ta let yerself out, but teh butler, Jimmy, he'll letcha out. I'm off fer the job."

She seemed rooted in the spot, torn between a question, shame, and hopefulness. Pratt crossed the kitchen and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "I'll be callin, don'tcha worry."

With a wink the only living Ellison went to the bedroom and dressed for the day. A custom tailored three-piece suit that fit his shapely, six-two frame with all the trimmings was waiting, fully pressed and wrinkle free. He dressed and finished the look with a three thousand dollar watch bearing his fathers initials engraved on his wrist. Heading out the door, he took the private elevator to the private parking garage where his driver met him. "Mornin Georgie ole boy, how's the games lookin fer the weekend?" The man, shorter, older, and twenty times tougher than Pratt gave a shrug and launched into a diatribe about one of the only two things he was passionate about; football. The other thing was keeping his boss on-time, and protected. Pratt knew both of these things, and kept the man well-compensated for his loyalty, it was hard to find loyal people.

Pratt's father, Mr. Ellison, Pratt was just Pratt or Mr. Pratt, never Mr. Ellison, knew a great deal about loyalty. He was loyal to a fault, and between his intelligence and loyalty had risen as quite the star in this start studded cities law firms. It was only natural that his son was much of the same. Pratt's loyalty was unquestioned by those that either sought his favor, or were sought for a favor of his own. This and his own cunning intelligence was why he was the youngest senior partner in the entire city, at thirty-one he held one of the most prestigious positions in one of the most prestigious firms in the entire world, let alone city. His fathers legacy was the ember that lit the sons own powerful aura in the city, but everyone knew that it was a combination. Pratt was no frat-boy riding on his fathers coat tails. He was a passionate and devilishly clever attorney. He had worked for both sides of the law, toiling for a few years as a prosecutor for the local DA before jumping to the cushy job that was waiting him. In the courtroom he was a wizard of manipulation, seduction, and power. Just to prove it to himself he had done research, and all of the essential duties outside of the courtroom, and he had done them well. Now though, he did not trifle with anything that did not require his direct influence. He had junior partners, lawyers, and aides to do all that work, and he hoped one day one of them would shine as brightly as he had.

But it was the power that he desired above anything else, and power he had. While he was loyal, it was just the letter of the law that he was loyal to, never the spirit. This had given him power, influence, and control in ways that were hardly measurable. Not being tied to any sense of justice or duty that was not written in black and white enabled Pratt to help those outside the law with effectiveness that defied most belief. In turn, their power and influence enabled him to be even better at his job. Rumor had it that he was gunning for a seat in congress or even the Senate, but Pratt would tell no one his plan. If they knew what he wanted, someone would try to stop him, and that would make things difficult for everyone.

"We need ta stop over at Jesse's taday Georgie," Pratt said, suddenly remembering his half-brother himself.

"Yes sir Mr. Pratt," A glance outside told Pratt that Georgie was already heading that way.

With a shrug he apologized, and then his mind turned to his half brother. Jesse Xavier Henrietta was his brother from his mother, and not his father. Pratt had never forgiven her for his middle name, somehow she had convinced his father to do it, and once she was out of the picture. Divorced because of the event that occurred nine months before his half-brothers birth. She had taken it all out of Jesse, giving him the oddest set of names Pratt had ever heard outside of the ghetto. Of course Pratt had not known about his brother until Jesse's sixteenth birthday, and the the death of their mother if you could call her that. Jesse's real father had died years before from some Mafia related incident, incidentally one of the crime syndicates that since Pratt had put behind bars. His half-brother had been quite involved in the family by then, and as Pratt placed the Italian wanna-be's behind bars he made sure that his half-brother stayed far away from an iron home. Six years his senior, Pratt had already been a noteworthy prosecutor, and made sure one of his aides bungled the case. Now Jesse lived in a comfortable home, with an imaginary job that made him entirely legal, a consultant with Pratt's own law firm.

The truth was that he was a consultant. On death.

Jesse was no serial killer, but he had a penchant for violent outbreaks that could result in death. Pratt had found a way to harness this energy into something productive, making sure that when Pratt implied to any DA, attorney, lawyer, politician, or what have you that his clients meant business, they meant business. It was the closest that Pratt ever got to actually breaking the law, but his brother was also intelligent and had an Ellison like loyalty. Generally all Pratt had to do was mention a name and a reason, and the job was done. It was a mutually beneficial relationship that worked very well for the both of them. And that was the way they both liked it.

Georgie shot a text to Jesse as they drove down the street, and pulled around to the alleyway. Jesse then slipped into the back seat adjacent to Pratt.

"Mornin Jess," He preferred Jess, for some reason.

"Good morning Pratt, what have you got for me today?"

"Just ta usual, a gift fer our mutual friends."

"The ones from the last time?"

"Them's de ones."

"Okay. Same time next week?"

"Ya bet, bud,"

"Until then."

After the meeting with Jesse the rest of the day passed rather quickly for Pratt. Meetings followed meetings until the lunch meetings that were again followed by meetings until the dinner party and more informal meetings. It was rather late when his phone rang, and since it was Morgan he figured it was just a confirmation or cancellation for the next days meetings. But when he heard her trembling voice and the reason behind it, he felt a rush of both guilt and immediate relief since he knew it was coming. He told her that he would meet her there, and drove the car himself since he had already let George go with instructions to place a few particular bets down for himself. The BMW's large eight cylinder enabled him to arrive faster than the detective, though slower than both the ambulance and first responding officers. Standing just on the outside of the yellow caution tape he waited for the detective to arrive. A man he knew rather well, especially the man's proclivity for the younger but not entirely illegal members of the opposite sex. The detective was Bruce Ferguson and was underneath Pratt's influence. Spotting him at the scene, he hurried over to inquire;

"Mr. Pratt, what are you doing here?"

"Well, ya see Detective Ferguson, I had a relationship with Miss Rogers, and my secretary was also a friend of both Miss Ferguson and the one who found her, Miss Martin I think was her name. She, my secretary, Mallory, is on her way down and asked if I could be here... I obliged, but detective, it would be nice if I could... Hmm, not be seen?" Pratt of course meant the soon-to-arrive reporters, and the detective understood. He motioned to the nearest officer to allow Pratt inside, and the two hurried up to the apartment.

"Miss Jones?" Pratt said softly, touching her visibly shaking shoulder. "I'm Mr. Pratt, Miss Joyner is my secretary. She is on her way, and asked me to be here. If there is anything I can do..." He trailed off, his hand rubbing very softly, just to remind her that there were people here that cared about her. The scene just behind the frightened woman was bloody, but Pratt ignored it, his focus drawn to the woman in front of him. He had met her once, he thought, and he wondered why he had not chosen her over that bloody inquisitive reporter. If he had just done that, none of this would have happened.

Carefully, she dabbed the corners of her eyes so she didn’t rub it or let her eyeliner run. She sniffled and the officer seemed to be momentarily placated enough to have stopped his badgering. But when she had seemed calmed down enough, he asked again and she looked up at him and gave out a small huff. Goodness, if looks could kill, this officer would have ten daggers stabbed in his face. But if answering his questions and giving him her official statement would make him go away and leave her alone, she’d do it. Even if everything inside of her felt like she wanted to die as well. She wanted to join her mother and Abby because then the pain would go away. The void would leave and maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t feel so lonely anymore.

With how many hours a day she worked between the firm and the bar, she didn’t have time for a social life. She had only been able to hang out with Abby so frequently because she pushed her and demanded her time whether she was exhausted or not. Abby was determined to not let Esther be alone because she understood her burden. School loans to pay off, her mother’s medical bills and rent. Her paycheck from the firm covered it all, at least the monthly payments, her paycheck from the bar covered rent and what tips she did have covered either TV dinners or booze. Lately, she preferred to spend it on booze since she could get free food at the bar. And booze was a way to cope, a way to unwind after a stressful day and partially because she just might have turned into a bit of an alcoholic after her mother died. The cravings would come more often, similar to when a person got the hankering for a cigarette, although she did that too when she was stressed. Like right now. Her hand felt like it was twitching, itching to hold a cigarette, to flick the ash and to taste and feel the burn in her throat as she inhaled a deep drag.

“Miss?” He snapped her out of her own mental reverie and she looked up at him again. “Your statement.”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” She stood up now, Rumple nearly falling off of her lap but Esther held him. “I walked inside to meet my friend. We were going to wasted out of our minds, most likely take some of our clothes off and get into bed together.” She hissed. “Instead, I found her cat and I found her the way she was, dead, bloodied and looking like bleeding tomato!” She snapped. “I found my best friend, Mr. Incredibly Obtrusive Policeman. So excuse me if I am not very much in the mood to give you a statement when I found my best friend mauled to death! Is that good enough for you? Would you mind if I went to get my wine bottles, take them home and go wallow?” She was mad, really mad. She didn’t appreciate being pushed and hounded. She had a temper. She was her mother’s daughter, she most definitely had a temper and considering the fates hadn’t exactly been kind to her over the years, it hardened her.

Before, Esther wasn’t the kind who could easily stick up for herself. She never would have even snapped at the officer. She’d always been quiet, meek and okay, she still didn’t really stand up for herself at the firm with Bree Larkin but that was because she could determined whether or not she had a job. Sure, she had to go through the HR but it’s not like HR knew who the little ones were. It was of no consequence. She knew when to stay quiet. She knew when to lash out. Right now, she should have simply complied with the officer instead of going a little bit crazy on him but he pushed her. She wasn’t in her right frame of mind, her best was just murdered and those two bottles of cheap wine she brought seemed really good right now with half a pack of her emergency stash of cigarettes.

The officer walked away after her rather colorful statement and she lowered herself back down onto the steps. Her fingers absently stroked the back of Rumple’s head and she sighed softly. “It’s just you and me buddy. I’ll take good care of you. I promise.” She whispered, kissing the side of his head, which only earned half a purr, half a meow from the little guy. Oh great, that meant she had to set aside extra funds for a litter box, cat food and all the stuff a cat needed. Well, hopefully she could take what Abby had for him so he wasn’t completely thrown for a whirl with a different setting and new stuff. Just a different setting and his old stuff.

Just as she stood to maybe evade the police caution tape in front of Abby’s apartment door and get her wine and Rumple’s kitty stuff, she heard a voice but the name it called wasn’t hers. She looked back and saw a hand touch her shoulder and as her eyes traveled up the length of his hand and arm to his face, she recognized him as the senior partner that she and Mallory always liked to gossip about. She wondered if he knew. She wondered if he knew right this moment. Her cheeks seemed to resonate some color back into their pale depths and she wrapped her arms around Rumple tighter a little bit, holding his head just sort of underneath her chin, still giving the side of his ear a little scratch. “Martin.” She said softly, looking up at him. “My name is Esther Martin. Please do not get me confused with your many woman, okay?” It was a low blow, considering who he was, but she didn’t appreciate being called anything other than her name, especially by a man who went through women faster than maybe Hugh Hefner.

Swallowing carefully, she looked down at Rumple who was purring contentedly in her arms, seemingly asleep before looking up at Mr. Pratt. She knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was. “You didn’t need to come. I told Mallory she didn’t need to call you but I appreciate it. I just want to get my wine and Rumple’s cat stuff. I have a shift at the bar in two hours. I’d very much like to not be late.” It was nearly seven and her shift at the Spot started at nine. Nothing would stop her. No, the last thing she needed was to be at home alone with her thoughts, even if she wasn’t going to be alone. She had Rumple now. “Excuse me.”

Although just as she turned, that was when they brought out Abby’s body on a stretcher, covered in white cloth. Her hand had slid out from the stretcher just over the edge, peeking a view underneath the cloth. Her hand was covered in rivulets of blood and it made the shakes rise up in her body. She turned quickly, once more facing Mr. Pratt and her eyes closed. A couple of drops of tears ran down her cheeks but she was quick to wipe them away. “I-I’ll go in just a minute.” She laughed lightly. “I’d hate to get in the way.” Nothing worse than colliding with a stretcher that held the bloodied remains of her best friend. That was one of her worst nightmares and she had several of them. Pour spiders and her being locked in a grave with Abby’s on top of her, it’d be like hitting the home run with nightmares. The shock alone would be enough to kill her.

“Esther!” Turning, her eyes settled upon the sight of Mallory and she hurried to her.
“Oh my god…oh my god!” One arm wrapped around Mallory’s neck and she held Esther in place, holding her close as a series of really intense sobs began to wrack through her. Mallory stroked the back of her hair and whispered calming and soothing words to her. She did well. Holding it all in until a familiar face she was comfortable around came through for her.

Once she had calmed down enough, she looked up at Mallory and sniffled. “I need to get my wine and Rumple’s kitty stuff.”
“Okay, come on. They’ve removed her body. I’m sure you can get your things now.” She kept her arm around her and walked her back into the apartment after getting clearance, simply to remove her things and Rumple’s kitty stuff. Esther put Rumple in his little kitty carry-on and got the wine while Mallory helped to carry out his kitty stuff. They loaded up Esther’s car and she looked at her friend. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Are you sure? I can follow you home. Or I can ask Mr. Pratt.”
“Mallory, don’t. You didn’t even need to call him.” She lowered her voice. “I didn’t need one of the best lawyers in this city here.”
“It doesn’t hurt since he has that much pull. Besides, in case the police tried to stake you as a suspect, he would have been here to deflect that.”
“Well what more would I need him for now? I need to drop Rumple and all this stuff home and then go to the Spot.”
”I don’t think you should go alone.”
”Well are you going to come then?”
“I would if I could but Jensen is—“
”Then go Mallory. I’m honestly fine. I don’t need you or Mr. Pratt here. I swear.”

Mallory sighed. She knew Esther well enough over the years to know when she was being serious and adamant about something and not just saying it for the sake of it to be modest. The girl was good about keeping things to herself, it was honestly the first time that she saw her cry so much. But she pulled herself together well, quickly in fact than one would have expected considering what she witnessed. But Esther wouldn’t say it. Mallory knew that in her character well enough that she wasn’t going to push it. “Okay. Please take it easy tonight?”
“Promise.” They hugged each other before Esther got into her car and she drove on, first heading home and then changing for her shift at the Spot.

Mallory headed back towards the crime scene to find Mr. Pratt. “Sir, I know I’ve asked a lot from you already but I’m really worried about her.” She said softly. “I’ll work extra hours, even be more available on the weekends need be, if it would be possible to just look out for her? Just for tonight? I can’t tonight otherwise I would.” She said softly. “She works at The Spot, just some blocks down from the firm. I just want to make sure she’s okay and—“ She cut herself off, knowing and feeling she had absolutely no right to ask. Sure, she was being selfish by refusing to cancel on her boyfriend who just came back from a study abroad program but that was because she hadn’t seen him in six months and she was dying to be in his arms again.

“No it’s okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be asking you for this. I’ll just cancel something and then I’ll go. You’ve done enough Mr. Pratt.”

Sometimes it took a woman to do a woman's job. Pratt had seen it before and even after confusing Miss Martin's name he knew that there was very little he could do at the moment. There was a place for him though, to speak to the officers and make sure that Miss Martin was not on the suspects list. She was, of course, everyone was at the beginning of a case like this, but the officers and detectives present were good men. Detective Ferguson's special interests notwithstanding. All of them said the same thing individually, they were quite sure that Miss Martin had nothing to do with her friends death, but like good police officers they would check up each and every lead to make sure that Miss Martin was proven completely innocent. That was only done because of Pratt's presence and interest of the case of course, most times they simply would have allowed the lead to dangle until they had nothing else to check, but in this case they were going to make absolutely sure she was innocent before chasing the real clues. In this case, what had the reporter been working on? Most reporter's made enemies, quite a few them in fact, and that was the highest probability. After thanking the officers Pratt headed down until he was standing within the doorway to the building, watching as Mallory and Miss Martin talked and loaded up the latter's car.

When Mallory approached him he listened carefully.

Contrary to the secretary and most underlings understanding Pratt did take a mild interest in the goings on underneath him. It was prudent to avoid many things, most of them annoyances, but occasionally they could be serious. The workers did not always grasp how everything mattered. An intern dating a secretary could turn into a legal headache, or if they were from two different firms it could give one side the leg up if one of the two 'conspirators' let something slip during an intimate conversation. It was all quite innocent, sure, but those sitting atop their world could use even the most innocent saying, gesture, or thought to change the political landscape. Very strange was the fact that such power could be swung by the tiniest of details, yet that was the world Pratt lived and thrived in. Of Mallory, he knew that she was dating a man and it was getting rather serious. Luckily he had little if no connection to anyone who had any connection with the powerful and influential in the city, but it still mattered. Should she go through a serious breakup or find out the man was cheating on him she would be given a few days off to collect herself, because she was an important secretary who needed to be one hundred percent focused on her work, and emotions made for horrible companions during the work hours.

Second, he also knew of her love for discussing his love life. Thankfully she respected him enough not to want to be involved, but her gossip with the other secretaries and other workers within the office invariably got out to the other powerful men of the city, sometimes even the tabloids. The knowledge was a two edged sword; on the one hand it could bite Pratt rather painfully if he slept with the wrong woman, and in this case it would certainly be remembered that he dated the now deceased journalist. A minor bit of news that would quickly be cleared up with two separate statements, one from the police that told that Mr. Pratt was not a suspect whatsoever in the case, and a more emotional one from the public relations office of Pratt's firm. First showing how horrible he felt the incident was, and saying the exact same the police said. Later one of the PR people would leak that the relationship had ended a few weeks before her untimely death, and that would be the end. The other edge of the place was rather dull, but it swung repeatedly and gave his love life the solid image of being a man of many different tastes, and the ability to procure women without resorting to less legal means.

All of this passed through Pratt's mind in the brief time that Mallory tried to ask him to help, and then decided it was not her place to do so.

"Mallory," He said, raising a hand and smiling pleasantly, "Don'tcha cancel yer plans. I'll head over ta that bar, twas what I was plannin on anyways fer the night, but den if'n I need ya I'll ring once Miss Martin is finished'er shift. Ya'lready workin hard'nough. I'm particular ta havin a good secretary, and it seems yer a great friend too. She'll preciate it soon enough. What's the address of'n this place?"

He got the address from her, and went directly to his car. The door closed just as the press showed up, thankfully, he watched for a few moments with amusement as they clucked and flustered around before settling down and waiting for the official statement. With a sigh he plugged in the numbers to his vehicles built in navigation system. Glancing around and it seemed Miss Martin had already fled the scene. A small grin popped across his face at the choice of words before he too did the same. Only for him it was a little closer to the truth.

Arriving at the bar a few minutes later Pratt took a seat at the bar after undoing his tie and stuffing it into his back pocket. He observed the atmosphere before ordering a gin & tonic, extra dry, on the rocks, with a lime. He left a tenner as a tip and twisted on his stool to the nearest television. Surprisingly it was one of the games he had left a bet on with George. Now with some interest he watched the game and joined into the bars roller coaster of enjoyment at the game. Quite'in a few o'heavy betters in'ere eh?" He looked around, hoping to find someone he might know, and wondering how big of a gambler that person might be. It was just another way power could turn on a dime. Unfortunately there was no one quite as high up the totem pole present, so he went back to watching the game and keeping an eye on the door whenever he could spare it. He was not entirely sure what he might do if anything happened to Miss Martin, perhaps simply calling Mallory would be enough, he hoped so.

This was certainly the job for either a friend or a woman, he had very little place here, but he would help as best he could.

He felt rather bad for the woman, not because of the influence he had in her friends death, that guilt had passed away early this morning. But just in the sense of human frailty. The tears she'd shed, trying to be such a brave and independent woman had given Pratt feelings he could not easily wash away as much as everyone wanted to believe he was a cold-hearted bastard, it simply was not true. That impression was one he was extremely good at cultivating, and it served him well during his power climbing, but the few people that really knew him knew he cared about those less fortunate who did not know how power corrupted. The little guys, so to speak, had a place in his heart. It was small place, but the pro-bono cases he took were not simply for a PR boost. Anyone that was innocent, and behind bars or looking to go behind bars would often get the entire power of Pratt, Whitney, and Zeigler behind them.

Just as that those thoughts were crossing his mind, and the game went to commercial, he spotted Miss Martin entering the doorway. Taking a sip of his gin, he watched with experienced eyes to see if she had managed to get herself back under control.

Okay, so when she got home, she did more than just drop the wine and Rumple off with his things. She managed a quick shower. It wasn’t long. Just five minutes. It felt good to wash off the grime and sweat of the day, but even more to wash the memory of Abby’s body the way she found her. It was as if she was trying to scrub the blood off of her, as if she had gone into a small trance. She let herself have a good cry in the shower, letting it wash away the memory, the bad feelings, the tears. For those five minutes, she was able to enjoy just letting it all go. Letting the wall she had built up fall down so she could be somewhat human again.

Emotions were a scary and tricky thing for her. When her mother died, it was like her world had stopped. She had just finished her last class of the semester, of her entire college education. She was so excited to get to the hospital and to let her mother know that her daughter had just finished and that weekend was graduation. By the time she had gotten to the hospital, they told her that her mother was gone. It felt like her entire world crumbled apart. She didn’t go to her own graduation. The excitement of walking the stage disappeared, the entire idea seemed stupid. If her mother wasn’t there to see, then there was no point. Besides, she had been in hysterics all weekend trying to get everything together. And who was there? Abby.

Abby and Esther had been friends since kindergarten. They were the two girls that used to fight with each other all the time over the stupidest things. Crayons, markers, and then one day, Esther’s pencils were what everyone wanted to use. No one wanted to use Abby’s crayons or markers. They wanted to used color pencils, the texture of the pencils so different from crayons and well one could shade and color better them than with markers, obviously. Everyone wanted to play with Esther that day. But Esther took one look at Abby who looked so sad that no one wanted to play with her. So she got up and walked over to her and just smiled. Abby looked up at her and Esther held her hand out to her and said, ‘Color with me Abby.’ And since then, it seemed they were inseparable. Sure, like any friendship, they had their ups and downs but for the most part, it was such a strong friendship, they went to college together and ended up moving into the city together. Mostly because Abby got a great opportunity at the paper and at that time, Esther wasn’t good to be on her own. Abby didn’t give her much choice.

She got better after her mother’s passing and at some point, Abby started seeing someone. She never met her mystery man but they seemed to last long enough. It was the perfect opportunity and that was why she moved out, got her own place and that’s where she had been for the past year. In order to cope with her mom passing, Esther blocked everything away. Abby had been alarmed at how okay and normal she was after the funeral. It was because she denied herself the ability to grieve. They say it happens in five stages. She never got through them. Not properly at least. Sometimes, when she was alone like in the shower, she’d let herself feel a little bit. But very quickly she sucked it all back up and put her façade back on. She hadn’t been truly happy in years. It seemed like she had one let down after the other. Freshman year of college, she found out her boyfriend Chad of three years, was cheating on her with every girl he could find. Sophomore year of college, her mother was diagnosed with cancer. The last day of senior year, her mother died. A month later, she was graduated, a bartender and still unable to find proper work as a teacher. Two months later, she got a job as a runner at the firm but still needed to bartend. Four years later, she was still a bartender and still a runner and nowhere near getting a job as a teacher, the only thing she ever wanted to do her entire life. And now Abby was dead. It’s like the fates wanted to slap her in the face repeatedly.

But if there was anything Esther wouldn’t do, it was wallow. She’d save the wallowing for private moments like this but she sucked it up quickly when she would realize she succumbed. No one liked a wallowing baby, no one liked a self-pitying weakling. She would never be any of that.

After her shower, she had pulled herself together, blow dried her hair properly so it was all wild, fluffy and flipped like the model’s hair when she was sitting in front of a blowing fan, applied some thicker eyeliner than she would wear at the firm and some red lipstick that made her lips pop. She donned a corseted black tank top with lace material for the straps, smoothing the material down her sides. It conformed well to her and was corseted by the way the material clung to her, tightly the way a corset would, but without the pins and ties. With it, she accompanied it with a black mini skirt that came mid-thigh and very quickly rolled up some black nylons with lace tops that sat well around her thighs, the lace tops only slightly disappearing under her skirt. If she moved a certain way, a little teasing peek could be seen. She paired it all with black converse.

Esther worked at a bar, she was on her feet all day. She normally came from the firm where she wore fancy shoes that she stomped around in all day in haste. Wearing her black converse was like a reprieve even if it was odd considering the rest of her outfit.

Tying her hair up in a messy bun, she quickly laid out Rumple’s stuff, made sure there was food for him, a kitty litter box set up for him and she wagged her finger at him. “Pee or poop anywhere else but that box, you do not get to sleep with me tonight.” The gray cat looked at her and then gave a small meow to which Esther took as compliance and agreement. With that, she left and hurried to the bar. If she was quick, she would make it with ten minutes to spare.

Mallory had been thankful, incredibly thankful for her boss and his compliant manner. He was a good man. And the look of gratitude was evident on her face when he said he wouldn’t mind, that he was heading there anyways. It was like relief poured into her and that meant that she could still keep a tab on Esther but also have her boyfriend make love to her all night. She got her cake and she could eat it too!
“Thank you. Thank you. I promise you I will make it up to you.” Because really, she was asking him to go babysit and keep an eye on a girl who worked for his firm so she could go have sex with her boyfriend. Totally not in his job description but maybe things worked out well, considering she was a very dedicated secretary.

After giving his address, she went home and when she got there, her boyfriend was there. It was a long evening of romance, candles, dinner, getting the sheets on the bed all rumpled, a bath, getting the sheets on the bed even more rumpled and then wet, a late night movie with some champagne and strawberries, more rumpled sheets and then some more.

By the time Esther got to the bar, she was thankfully there with the ten minutes to spare like she had wanted. She pulled open the door and a small gust of wind followed her in. She pulled her hair down from the messy bun and the wavy locks billowed down over one side of her shoulder .
“Hey Esther!” No one at the bar knew. She had no intention of telling them.
Looking up, her eyes landed on Scott and Bridget, two of the bartenders and also a married couple. They were sweet together and while they all got along, these were relationships that never went outside of the bar. And she had been working here since she was eighteen. She was twenty-five now. Still, it made for good and fresh faces to see after everything. And considering everything, one would never guess what had happened by the big smile that appeared on her face.
“Hey!” She hurried to the bar, walking straight past Mr. Pratt without even realizing. She got around and put her purse beneath it in a reserved cubby and she took her jacket off.
“We have news.”
“What is it?” Please let it be anything good and nothing remotely bad.
“We’re pregnant!” Bridget squealed and Scoot was smiling ear to ear.
“Oh my word! Congratulations!” She hugged them both and they spilled the details of how far along Bridget was, when she’d leave for maternity leave and asking her if she would take over her shifts on the weekends.

They quickly finished up their little chat as the activity at the bar picked up. Esther was clocked in and she was taking orders, mixing drinks, opening bottles or pouring drafts like a pro. Four years she worked as a bartender, yeah she better have this down. After about thirty minutes of some chaotic rush, they slowed down enough, meaning all the patrons or matrons were happily taken care of. Esther took a moment to get a bottle of water and sip on it, and only then, did her gaze land on Mr. Pratt. She walked round the bar to stand before him. “Mr. Pratt?” She asked. “What are you doing here?” She hadn’t seen him walked in. “Have you been here this entire time?” It was one thing to not notice her boss’ boss’ boss sitting right there. It was another thing to realize why he must have been there. Either for drinks or because Mallory begged him to. She lowered her water bottle and sighed with some resignation. “Did Mallory ask you to do this? Because she didn’t need to and you didn’t need to. I’m fine.”

Or, he really was there for just drinks and in which case…
“Unless, you are here for drinks in which case…next round is on me?” She asked a little awkwardly, laughing slightly nervously. It’s embarrassing to assume. As she was always told, when you assume, you make an ass of yourself.

Pratt had two very strong impressions made within a minute of when Miss Martin entered the bar. Each impression came from two different sides of the emotional, social, or whatever you wanted to call it, spectrum. The first made him slightly guilty, but not too guilty, and it was certainly the stronger of the two. Never really having seen Miss Martin outside of business hours and business dress, save for that one time he had been meeting Abby, he immediately wished that he had seen her before, especially outside of business dress. She was incredibly sexy, and even if the outfit was meant to draw tips, which he was sure that it would do very well for, Esther completely owned it. She filled it out very nicely with the appropriate curves in all of the right places. The face she wore now was entirely different from earlier, and one that Pratt would, and had, chased for the entertaining night or two. It was attractive, and knew it was attractive, and seemed to have very little doubt about it. A woman that would not be hurt by just a little fun, fun that probably would lead nowhere but to fancy restaurants, expensive drinks, and executive hotels. Though this look mostly just appealed to Pratt, it also brought forth the second impression he felt. One of mild relief that she was doing better. At least well enough to put on an excellent mask and pretend everything was well. He was surprised that she mentioned nothing to the couple, and how brightly she smiled. Well, it was probably better, with the news they wanted to share. If there was anything that would dampen the news of new life, it was that someone had died.

Not needing, or wanting to grab Esther's attention Pratt went back to watching his game.

Three refills later and there was a lull in the game. He had spotted Miss Martin busily tending the bar with hardly a pause or downcast look during the preceding thirty or so minutes, and was deciding that perhaps after the game was over he could leave. There was really little reason for him to be here, or to have any qualms over leaving before he had planned on, it was not as if his secretary would know or care all that much. Yes, perhaps after da game's finish. He decided just as he heard Esther's voice directed toward him. Her questions came rather quickly, awkwardly, and nervously. He wondered if it was only her boss's 'good deed' that her so flustered or if it was anything more. Prolly just't deed. After everything she had been through that night there was undoubtedly little space in her mind to be occupied with the thought of him as anything other than her boss doing something nice. With a rather amused smile he sipped on his drink as she spoke, and spoke, and questioned both him and her own intentions in the span of a few seconds. Finally he laughed, finished the drink, and set the empty glass on the bar.

"If'n ye'd be so kind doll," He said first, motioning to the empty glass and repeating his order from earlier.

Only once he had gotten the glass back full, and left a tenner on the table did he look into her face with his own amused expression.

"First'o'all," He started, holding up one finger that then pointed to the television, "Me plan fer ta evenin had been ta watch ta game." He shrugged his shoulders next, "Tru'nough, I was gonna'er watch it at ta Diamond, da'bar over'n ole'city. But, second'tall," A second finger came up then and pointed to his own eyes, "Mallory did be askin me ta keep two eyes on ye, but'n since ye was at a bar, twasn't that'ard ta switch up me plans, ya'ere?" Finally a third finger came upwards, "An lastly, don't go givin'er a hard time, ya'ere? She'sn a good worker, an smart, she be knowin I was plannin on comin ta a bar, which difference it be makin if'n yer bar so I can be keepin two eye on ye? And twas a hard time earlier, fer ya I'd be knowin. Me'n Abby been datin, so I be knowin y'all twas close." The game suddenly roared back to life, but Pratt ignored it momentarily and gave Esther a bright smile, aided by the liquid happiness he had been downing all evening. "Yer a pretty lass Miss Martin, ain't hard ta keep eyes on ye." Then he glanced up at the game, his eyes flitting back and forth between it and Esther.

Thankfully, he seemed to find it humorous and she could only be thankful for that. It wasn’t everyday that a man would find a woman’s nervousness or awkwardness amusing, unless of course they were anything like Mr. Pratt or just down right vicious to think anything she did was humorous. Her hips leaned against the bar’s counter and she smiled a little bit, relaxing just a bit more. “Coming right up.” She refilled his order and brought it back to him, noticing the ten dollar bill on the counter. Shaking her head, she pushed it back to him. “I told you, this one’s on me.”

So as he began his explanation, her cheeks turned a soft red in her embarrassment. Yup, she had assumed. But then he mentioned that Mallory did ask him to keep an eye on her and that almost infuriated her. She wasn’t a petulant child that needed to be watched. So she cried! Big deal. People always cry. Not me though, not ever. Which was true. It had been the first time anyone’s probably seen her cry for four years. Sure, she cried when she was alone, in private, but that’s because she was alone and in private. So it seemed understandable, now that she thought about it, why Mallory would be so worried, why she would ask Mr. Pratt to keep an eye on her, while knowing she was working at the bar tonight. Okay, so maybe she hadn’t done so badly. Esther was just sour about it because she never wanted to be a burden on anyone. And to her, asking Mr. Pratt to take time out of his evening to go to a different bar just so he could keep an eye on her felt like he was upholding a burden. She didn’t want to be anyone’s burden.

Still, he seemed to be insistent upon the fact that it was honestly okay and he really didn’t mind. That made her feel a little bit better. What caught her attention though was when he managed to slip in there that he and Abby were dating. Her hands rested on the bar counter and her eyes went a bit wide as the realization struck. “You and Abby?” So much so that his little compliment went unheard because all she heard repeating in her head—in his gorgeous and sexy accent—was the fact he was Abby’s mystery man that Esther never got to meet. But all this time, she worked for his firm. He had been right there and she never put it together.

”What does he do?”
“Oh, he’s a lawyer.”
“You and a lawyer?” Esther snorted. “Yeah, get real. That’ll happen when hell freezes over.”
“What, you don’t think I could date a lawyer?” Abby sounded and even looked offended.
“It’s not that I don’t think you could date a lawyer. I didn’t peg you as the kind who would want to.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because in my mind, you’re way better than a lawyer ever could be. He’s a lawyer and you’re a reporter.”
”Thank you for stating the obvious.”
Esther got up and went after her. “No, I don’t mean it like that. I just see you on more than one occasion biting his head off because of what he says sometimes.”
That got Abby to smile because it was exactly the kind of thing she would do if she didn’t like something someone said. It didn’t matter if they were a friend, boyfriend or some random stranger on the street. If she didn’t like something, she made it be heard. That’s why she and Esther got along so well. They were each other’s polar opposites. Their other half.
“I think it’s great that you’re dating someone who isn’t a loser.” Esther smiled at her friend. “And if he hurts you, I promise you I will kick his ass so hard, it will never return to its regular state.”
”Bummer. He has one hell of a beautiful derriere.” And the two laughed and drank and enjoyed their time together.

The memory was vivid and for a moment, it threatened to put Esther back into that sad place she had been in when she found Abby’s body, when she was in the shower to wash away the day’s misfortunes. She snapped out of it quickly and she looked at Mr. Pratt. “I know she really liked you. She talked about you non-stop. Hell, what she wanted to talk to me about today was probably something about you.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes but she didn’t look sad or like she was so lost in the way things were, she couldn’t still show that happiness for her friend, even if she was gone. A smile appeared onto her face and she looked at him.

Then it disappeared as she realized something. They both lost Abby, a girl who meant a lot to them. She liked to think that Mr. Pratt had cared for her too. So what was the unspoken message here? She lost someone today, but he did too. Upon realizing this, she looked at him with a small frown and leaned over the bar. She reached for his hand and placed hers on top. “I’m sorry for your loss as well Mr. Pratt. It’s going to be a grim and sad world without the journalistic stylings of one Abigail Huxtable.” She gave his hand a soft squeeze before she made to pull away.

“Besides, if she was here right now and she heard that pretty comment directed towards me, she’d ream you such a big new one, you’d need therapy after and you know I’m right.” She grinned now. All sign of nervousness or awkwardness shied away. Because now she saw him as her best friend’s boyfriend and not her boss and that meant she could be that kind of friend who would always protect her, even if she was gone forever. It just made for things to be lighter. Esther could be herself, not on edge because he was also technically her boss’ boss’ boss.

After a small laugh, she turned away and went to tend to other customers, at least the ones she was serving and if Scott and Bridget needed help, she did it efficiently. It was like a second thought, bartending. She’d done it for so long now, none of it was hard. After all, once you make a cosmopolitan or a dry martini wrong twice, then it just means she could really only make it right the third time. Third time’s the charm!

"Ta Abigail," Pratt said with a raise of his glass before chuckling and nodding approvingly of Esther's next statement.

"Ya, she'd be quite a whippersnapper eh?" With another chuckle he briefly thought back to the last date him and Abby had went on. It was typical of their relationship, a kind of give and take. He gave her information on the upper class elites while she gave him some measure of power over those trying to be as powerful as him. He took her intensely honest sense of journalistic honor, and she took back classy dinners and a chance to apply her sense of the world to those who ran it. They both took, and gave, each others bodies as well, and of course that was how the whole thing had started. They had lasted longer than most of each others relationships (something Pratt had been rather surprised about, when Abby mentioned theirs had been her longest in quite some time) because of an equal amount of intelligence that told each of them how useful the other could be. Useful, an'fun. Pratt corrected himself, he had enjoyed Abigail and according to the source itself and Esther she had enjoyed him as well. The ending of their relationship, something he was sure that he could not reveal to Esther for a little while, had been because of the mutual respect they each had for the other.

Abigail for her sense of justice and honor, and Pratt for his power.

Unfortunately she had found something that she was not supposed to about his own firm. Because of the mindset she had, she had brought it up to him both boldly and without any hint of shaming, blaming, or guilt laying. There were no emotional strings being pulled, in fact he remembered just how much she had tried to insist that it had nothing to do with how she felt about him or how their relationship had progressed. In fact Pratt had entirely agreed with everything she said, but of course he knew the whole story already. She was working a story about the dirty Judge's that existed within the city, especially this city, and was tracing the money by following the gossip. Without a doubt in three months, or perhaps one with how excellent Abby's nose was for dirt, she would have found that nearly every bit of money in the city led to Pratt. At least any money that influenced politics and power, drug money he stay well away from, but many of his clients paid with that money, so perhaps he did have some involvement with that too. It really did not matter after she had told him what she was looking at. The reasons for their breakup was to free her journalistic voice, so it did not appear she was influenced by her boyfriend.

But her reasons did not matter anymore. Pratt needed to make sure they had been separated for a few weeks before she was killed.

A pang of guilt attempted to creep into his psyche, but the alcohol and sudden surge of cheering around him pushed it aside easily.

As he turned to see what was happening he caught a glimpse of Esther smiling happily at a customer, and then their glance and the smile stayed in place.

It would have been so much better if he had met Esther, instead of her friend, she seemed much less inquisitive and equally attractive. But then he would have not been able to produce favors with Abby's papers, and that would have not worked out nearly as well. Would it? Banging a worker in his own building, even if she was not his secretary, that would still be news. With a sigh he turned to game and decided to forget it all until he found out if he had won, or lost the rather large sum that he had placed upon the game. An hour or two passed, with many more drinks, a few brief conversations with Esther that generally involved a memory of Abigail, and a roller coaster of a ride as the game went into overtime and was decided by a single point. By then only the betters and dedicated drinkers remained in the bar, and at this point Pratt had fit himself nicely into both categories. He could feel it, he was rather pissed, or blitzed, or just plain drunk. With a wave of his hand to Esther he ordered a round for the entire bar, deciding it would be his last.

Pratt had never needed alcohol to be brazen and bold, but it certainly did not hinder him except perhaps to make his thick accent even harder to understand. As Esther brought him his drink he smiled with gleaming eyes that revealed a little bit of the sadness, and a little bit of the animal inside of him. The animal was mostly not for Esther, but it certainly included her in one of the many things he desired, though at this moment she was an immediate one, and not one of the many that had burned for years in his young soul. The sadness was entirely for her however, having taken her friend if not with his own hands, then with his own decisions.

Grasping her hand, he kissed it, and winked into her pretty face. "Id be meanin t'what I been sayin Esther, yer a pretty lass, an twice I be sayin that now to ya. Haps ye'd want ta share a cabby hom, I ain't gonna be drivin tanight?"

The rest of her shift seemed to go swimmingly. She did it all like it was second nature. She was more efficient at this job than she was at the law firm as a runner. But then again, she had been working at this bar since she was eighteen, bartending since she was twenty-one. It was easier to mix drinks than to run files all around. Besides, here, there was no Bree Larkin to give her a hard time. Here, there were just jovial (and drunk) customers, Bridget and Scott who made life so easy and she was allowed to have drinks after she got done with her shift; all for the very reasonable price of ‘for free.’

Whenever Mr. Pratt would need a refill or wanted a new drink altogether, Esther tended to him diligently. She continued with her other customers and she always loved the ones who built a tab. They ended up tipping the most because she took such good care of their bill and she never messed it up. Plus, she tended to dock a drink or two which was usually the real reason she always got really great tips. It sort of compensated for the freebies she was allotted to give away and not a cent of that compensation went to the bar. It went to her completely and her spending money fund. Which mostly meant groceries.

By the time he ordered another round but another round not just for him but for the house, she was nearing the end of her shift, which she was pretty thankful for but at the same time, kind of dreading it. It meant she was going to go home alone like she always did but this time, she did have the advantage of being met by Rumple at home. Of course, unless someone decided to kill him too in case curiosity tried to kill the cat or something. Hopefully that wasn’t the case. She hoped maybe to cuddle with the little feline so she could pretend she was cuddling with someone, as opposed to her body pillow. Although she wouldn’t dock it, her body pillow had been there when not even Abby could be there. Still though, she was kind of torn about how she felt, almost being done with her shift and it just meant either she would sleep or she would toss and turn in her bed with or without Rumple and have vivid visions of what she saw in Abby’s place. She didn’t like the thought of it already but it seemed there was still hope for the night.

Just as the game came to its end, the winner being declared, she had been leaning against the bar a little bit by her hip. Her hands were placed on the counter and what pulled her out of her own little mental reverie was when her hand had been clasped. She looked down at it just as Mr. Pratt pressed a kiss to the back of it and her cheeks flamed. Well shit, that was perhaps the closest to sex she had gotten in a really long time. That was the closest thing to some sort of male affection that she didn’t meet everyday. Her issues with men were all related to what Chad did. They were best friends in high school and eventually developed feelings for each other beyond a friend level. They started dating around junior year and were together and happy until college happened. In college, she thought it was going to be perfect. But then he had started cheating on her and it became pretty clear that the guy she knew to be her best friend wasn’t that same guy anymore. He somehow digressed. Since then, her trust and faith in men seemed to be a bit shattered. Her expectations and standards sky rocketed and sure, she had some hook ups here and there, went on dates but she knew she never wanted to see them again after the night. It usually ended in sex. Yes, she always broke that cardinal rule about having sex on the first date. In her mind though, while it was the first date it was also the last date. Why not get some pleasure out of it?

The fun in that ran out when it became clear she wasn’t getting anywhere closer to fixing her loneliness. So she just stopped altogether, the desire for sex there but not enough to make her want to do the one night hook ups again. It wasn’t worth it. Not when her bed was still lonely and her body pillow proved to be a better cuddle-buddy and bed mate than an actual man.

It was very clear to her that Mr. Pratt had just kissed her hand, complimented her again and even suggested riding home together because he was very much quite obviously drunk. Perhaps it was why he was even doing or saying any of what he was saying, because he was drunk. It then occurred to her that he was her boss. Not directly but he was her boss’ boss’ boss. It was a part of his firm that he owned and he was a senior partner in that she worked in. And if any of the partners whose last name was part of the firm name wanted to fire her, Mr. Pratt included, they didn’t need to talk to HR or Bree Larkin about it. They could just do it because at the end of the day, they had the final say. HR was simply more for the paperwork aspect of it all than anything else.

However, her loneliness and the fact she really didn’t want to go home and wonder if she was going to sleep or not, made it easy for her to push that little detail aside. Instead, she smiled softly, her cheeks still reddened in a soft blush and she leaned down on the counter. By doing so, it gave him an even better view of her cleavage in the top she wore but it also allowed her to do some up close and personal flirting. Her hand slid over his that clasped her other hand and she tilted her head. “How about this? When I get off work, I’ll have a beer and then we can leave. No worries about a cab. I can drive us.” She said softly. But that wasn’t the end of it. No, she wanted more. Not to just drive him home or anything like that. No, she wanted to not be alone tonight. And maybe Abby’s spirit wouldn’t hate her for engaging in her best friend’s ex boyfriend or ex man friend, for just a night. One night. Then they could go back to work and being as distant as possible. But one night and she’d at least be able to get through everything else. The funeral, the investigation, anything pertaining to Abby.

“And…rather than dropping you home, maybe I could find a way to entice you to come to my place tonight. Tomorrow’s Saturday after all.” She said softly, figuring he wouldn’t have as much work that needed to be done like during the week. She looked down now at their hands, watching as her fingers seemed to absently stroke the back of his hand, like a feather light soft touch. “Maybe you’d like to stay the night?” She looked up at him now, her eyes filled with hope and also a certain need. If anything, just the company of a warm body beside hers, maybe wrapped up together for a more comfortable night’s sleep. Rather a warm body besides yours, tangled up together after getting tangled up in the sheets!

Oof, her subconscious was a snarky bitch. Truthful and full of the zero inhibitions that always plagued Esther, but nonetheless, a snarky bitch. Perhaps tonight would be the night she actually listened to her. Cuddling sounded nice. Getting tangled up in her sheets naked and becoming hot, sweating messes sounded so much better.

Pratt was quite happy to suddenly find himself as the won being hit on, so to speak. That happened, of course. Woman who flattered themselves thinking they had some measure of control over a man like him with their body. Both woman who were close if not within the circle of power, and those far outside of it using an obvious ploy to bring themselves closer. Not only them, but also those whose intentions were much more pure. Not pure in the sense that they were innocent or thought not of sex, but rather pure of any greed besides taking the most handsome man to bed that they could find. It was only them that he allowed a regular indulgence on his part. Those who desired power or control over him with their bodies mostly ended up thinking that he was attracted to the same sex as his own, though that was quickly refuted within the next few days on the tabloids when they proclaimed in all sorts of hinted and teasing details the latest catch for Mr. Pratt from Pratt, Whitney, and Zeigler. It was beyond obvious to Pratt, even in his stupor of drunken excess that Esther certainly only thought of catching him for things that had no influence on power and control. Though, der have been an occasion of me dick doin jus dat, he thought to himself with a grin that could only be his enjoyment of being Esther's center of attention.

“How about this? When I get off work, I’ll have a beer and then we can leave. No worries about a cab. I can drive us.”

"Oh, she'll'ave a beer, den drive, bloody likely!" He exclaimed with a bright laugh.

“And…rather than dropping you home, maybe I could find a way to entice you to come to my place tonight. Tomorrow’s Saturday after all.”

"Aye, dat be true missy, an ye needn't be findin notin."

Pratt winked, and enjoyed both Miss Martin's blush and the cleavage that found some of the bright red flushing across it at that moment. Nothing about the encounter was much, if any, different than the multitude Pratt had been part of for years. Sometimes it felt a little too easy, but he was passed caring about that. He had people that could care about it for him, and besides this was Esther. It was not that he knew her better than anyone else in the bar, but he felt as if he could trust her to be a sane person. It was really only the crazy ones that wanted his child, his money, or his life that ever worried Pratt now. The rest he had the power, influence, and control to deal with. Besides Esther was a dear friend of Abby, that much he knew, and it was probably the case that she was more afraid of having a night out with him than he was of her. That and the reassuring touch of her delicate skin across his hands erased any doubt of any problem that could remotely pop out of anywhere. It would have been easy to answer her next question quickly, but for a man accustomed to power Pratt was also accustomed to making people wait, so he did.

“Maybe you’d like to stay the night?”

He grinned then and waited with the slightest arch of an eyebrow that said it all by itself. Of course, but you are going to have to sit there, blush, and be nervous while I savor the situation. Perhaps not as elegant as such, but certainly it was not a lewd, crass, or leering look in anyway. It was impossible for Mr. Pratt to look like that anyways, there was too much polish, suave, and intelligence for him to even appear as a dimwitted fool. Finally he laughed, loudly, and again kissed Esther's hand, then the other, before beckoning her close. Pratt continued to motion her closer and closer until his lips, that he licked once, were brushing faintly against the underside of Miss Martin's ears.

"Me'd be dee'lighted an graced ta spend da night missy, an ye shouln't be'orried bout any unsavory toughts from any'one. If'n ders one ting a lawyer like me self can do, it be keepin a secret, ya'ere?"

As he leaned back onto his stool, Pratt took the opportunity to kiss Esther's cheek softly. He winked again, before quickly following up with a request.

"I'll be havin anoter one of dem gin's whilst ya drink yer beer Miss Martin, an if'n ye could have anyone o'more sober mind call," He dug in his back pocket to find the number of his driver, before handing over the card, "O me driver, blessed Georgie, but'ee be gettin worried sometimes if'n I ain't right a proper woken at eight tirty. Eight tirty! On a bloody Saturday! Ya see what me be havin ta deal wit? A night out'ould be blessed, just blessed, specially wit a right proper pretty lass like yerself Miss Martin, o certainly, right proper beaut you is." Pratt's voice was light and merry the entire little speech, but there was an underlying tone of one who was quite certain that his requests would be taken as commands and everything that came to him was gifted by the magnitude of the man he was. Not necessarily boastful, but simply confident, extremely confident.

She winced slightly. Alright, saying she’d have a beer and then support driving after having even one alcoholic beverage, and technically on an empty stomach because she hadn’t eaten since she couldn’t even remember, might not have been very wise. He had every right to laugh because it’s not like it’d be a very good idea to drive even with one beer in her. Esther Martin was a lightweight. She could handle her liquor well, always knowing how much she could drink so she didn’t really throw up often from too much liquor consumption, but she did feel things rather quickly. Maybe because she drank faster than some, maybe she just didn’t like the idea of a warm beer. Piss-warm was just dreadful.

A small bout of laughter, although mostly nervous and a little bit embarrassed, came from her. It also had her confidence in this entire situation going down really quickly. The one time she tried to come onto a man, ask him out—sort of—and take a chance, she felt like she was being laughed at more than anything else. Even her subconscious was being even more of a bitch, somehow seeming to relish Esther’s torture by waiting for Mr. Pratt’s decision.

Oh, that was even worse. Her cheeks were read, her nervousness was about to make her drown and any bit of confidence she had was slowly dwindling. Make that two beers she wanted to drink, maybe one that had a shot of whiskey in it. Irish Car Bombs, all the way. They did the trick when she needed to take the edge away and considering her night and the fact she just made a supreme ass and fool of herself by asking her boss’ boss’ boss out, who also happened to be her dead best friend’s ex boyfriend, they’d be like heaven. Right now, she wanted to just pull away and move away from him but she couldn’t seem to find the mobility in her to walk away from him. To simply brush it off and let him be free of having to say yes under some sort of obligation or because she looked like she might really have a mental breakdown. She was that nervous. She had even started biting her lower lip, certainly not in some way to attract him further. Hell, she even wished she wasn’t slightly bent over the counter now because she didn’t want to show her cleavage. She wanted to disappear, withdraw away like she always did when she felt like she was embarrassing herself, even when she was only just taking a chance for once in her life, and hide in her bed for the rest of the night, for the rest of the weekend.

“O-Or you know, I can just call you a cab. It’s not a big deal Mr. Pratt. Forget I said—“ She hadn’t been looking at him when she was trying to give him a way out. No, she was looking down at her fingers still absently stroking the back of his hand. Then she heard him laugh again and it made her cringe inwardly. Goodness, could this night get any worse? She found it strange that even in his potential rejection, he kissed her hand again. That made her gaze lift to his and she complied with his beckoning, moving closer and closer until she felt his breath against the bottom surface of her ear lobe. It made her breath hitch in her throat and her eyes actually fluttered closed very briefly from the light touch of his lips against her skin. It really had been far too long if just the faintest touches and compliments were making her swoon.

Her head turned slightly so her gaze could fit to his own and she actually swallowed hard, the movement in her throat easily visible and showing her own shock and awe. “O-Oh. Right.” She nodded her head. “Like a dirty little secret.” She whispered, too transfixed in him and his voice to realize what she had just said. Esther was never the kind of girl to seek a man out for an opportunity based on his status or power. Sure, she did think that Mr. Pratt was perhaps one of the most gorgeous and powerful men on this planet. But his power, fame or sort of celebrity status as a prominent hot shot lawyer didn’t attract to her. Just this, right here. Sure, she always did admire him from afar at work but considering what Mallory told her, she didn’t quite fancy the idea of becoming just another flavor of the month. But even she wouldn’t be graced that privilege of lasting a month. More like flavor of the day. People in his circle and from his world would easily deem her as white trash, especially in comparison to him.

No, she didn’t want him for any other reason but because he was here, seemed to express some kind of concern and they seemed to have bonded over their mutual affiliation with Abby. Besides, it was more so the fact that he was drunk that was making this easier. Not because he was drunk and she could take advantage of him. No, more like take advantage of the fact he may not be thinking straight and could be seeing Esther differently than if he was sober. She was taking a chance at an easier time to maybe get what she would like for just one night because she knew that he’d never say yes to wanting to spend the night with her if he was sober. She wasn’t anything special. Just an education major who couldn’t find work as a teacher anywhere so she had a pretty useless degree.

Her worries and her insecurities seemed to calm down enough for her to at least enjoy what he was saying, rather than show that her confidence had basically plummeted hard, even if he did say yes. Especially when he had kissed her cheek. That was a nice little gesture, one she was hoping to have more of later, although elsewhere. Like her lips, her neck, her jaw—her entire body. She tilted her head and took the card he offered and read the name. His driver. Of course. Maybe for their own peace of mind, it would be better to call him anyways. For his driver’s own sanity and for Mr. Pratt’s as well the next day. “I’ll get your gin and then close you out. I believe my shift just ended Mr. Pratt.” She smiled softly. It was 2 AM, she worked five hours and now she was free to enjoy a couple of drinks and then go home to a better night than at first originally imagined or thought of.

She let Scott and Bridget know and they closed out her drawer and she closed out her station. When she came back, she made Mr. Pratt his gin drink and then got herself a Blue Moon, one of her favorite beers. It also felt filling enough that she didn’t really need to eat. No, she wasn’t an alcoholic. She just liked a nice pick-me-up after an incredibly long day. With her purse on her shoulder, she walked from the other side of the bar to sit down next to him, having presented him with his drink first before settling down. Crossing a leg over the other, she took a deep swig of her beer. She didn’t drink half of it, no she actually liked to savor the taste of it because of its citrus flavor but she did drink a fair amount for a first sip. She had been needing a drink since she walked in to find Abby dead. Oh, she’d be enjoying that wine tonight. Cheap wine yet but no different than an expensive bottle of wine that had the same amount of alcohol. And at the end of the day, that’s what she wanted. To drink enough to get a little bit drunk. Not overly so but enough to knock her out that not even bad dreams could plague her drunken stupor in sleep. “I’ll finish this beer and then call your driver, George. It could just be safer and for both your peace of mind and his, I’ll do the lawful thing and not drink and drive.” Although if she did get into a scuffle, she knew of a lawyer she could call upon.

"Ye mistaken me meaning fer callin young lass," Pratt had finally had enough time to process all of Esther once she sat next to him. Her soft features and the nice lack of an air about her complimented him well, he thought. But he just had enough time to figure out she thought he was calling Georgie to drive them. That'd be hoot, but often Pratt preferred to keep his relationship with driver and bodyguard a bit more professional and not force the man to endure his eccentricities when it came to the ladies. "Don't fret now, I did manage ta thinkit out a'fore ya went ahead. Call Georgie, an tell'm my car'll be'ere at the Spot, tis whatcha call dis place yea? An tell'm I'll be at yer place. An don'tcha orry bout'im gettin a case o the nerves on dat account. He'll know it'd be right proper." Seeing the confusion on Esther's face he leaned over to brush his hand along her jaw, give her a quick peck, and snatch his card back. "Better tinkin, I'll be makin the call, ee'can understand my slobberin well'nough, ha!"

Pratt stood without too much of a wobble, most of the alcohol went to his eyes where it shined and proclaimed the loose fluidity that now coursed through his veins. Typically he only had to make one decision, and he would stick with it. The decision would come after long thoughts, considering all the angles, and tying up any loose ends within his head. Now, with the alcohol one decision ran into the next with hardly a pause between them. He did make the call over any protests of the nice couple at the bar, and Esther herself as though it were her duty. He had a secretary, and sometimes it rather pissed him off that he was only allowed to call Mallory who would then ring whomever he really wished to speak to. The phone call went as such:

"Ello Georgie!" The other person on the line held the phone well away from his ear, knowing the only reasons Mr. Pratt would call him so late. Or early. Depending on how you looked at it.

"Hello Mr. Pratt, how can I help you?"

"Buh noht doin a bloody ting till well pass noon in da morrow, ya'ere?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Pratt, I did not catch all of that."

"Not doin a bloody ting till noon! Da morrow be Aturday eh? I'm ta be busy, till den."

"Noon? What should I-"

"Notin! Bet yer games, sleep, fookin notin! Get one o'dem cafe's yer always be ravin bout! Notin!"

"Nothing? A cafe, what are you talking about Mr. Pratt?"

"I'mma be occuppied, ya'ere? Me car'll be at da Spot, quite a name dont'cha tink? Ere'you gonna be lad? Da Spot, wha spot lad? Da spot! Wha bloody spot ya twig!? Haha, Georgie, it'd be a nice place, an der be a nice lass'ere who I'll be wit, mmkay sport? Ya pickin up what I be throwin down?"

Finally it clicked for Georgie, "What's her name sir, the lass?"

"Ah, Esther, very pretty, but very embarrassed at te moment, gots ta go!"

Hanging up the phone, on his third try, he turned to Esther whom he had caught with another growing blush across her face. He smiled, friendly like, and moved over to her. Taking her arm in his own, he kissed her cheek and his hand sneaked behind the both of them to hide from the lovely couple at the bar. He gave her butt he slightest of pinches before another brilliant smile crossed his face that was directed at the couple. "I pologize fer any inconvenience, ya's got a lovely bar, an a lovely tender, who I'll be stealin fer ta night. Good evenin." Turning he lead Esther from the bar before she could react, though he thought he heard her saying something to the couple as they went outside. All of a sudden he realized that he had not the vaguest idea what her car was, though he had a vague recollection of what it looked like. Turning to Esther, he gave a cheeky grin, "Yer car?" He asked, with a follow up, "I mean no offense, but I be wantin, well, ya."

The look on her face was that ever so daunting realization of ‘Oh.’ It embarrassed her and it wasn’t even because of his accent but she truly did lose sight of what he had been trying to say. Simply call George and let him know as opposed to calling for his help. Although it made her feel better knowing Mr. Pratt was going to call him, although she imagined how the call would go. Something along the lines of Mr. Pratt’s accent being thicker than possible because of his drinking and his driver wondering what the hell he was trying to convey. The thought made her smile, needing to stifle a little giggle so she didn’t erupt into them in front of him. That would be something now, wouldn’t it? She wondered again just how many calls George would get from his boss either drunk or sober telling him he needn’t worry about him that night, someone else would be taking good care of him.

That small peck seemed to just be a little teaser of what could happen. The very thought made her take hearty sips of her beer that she absolutely relished. While he went to his call, she turned to face the bar and met the nosy gazes of Scott and Bridget who were drying some high ball glasses. She put her beer down after downing the rest of it and looked at them. “What?” Her cheeks were so read, the flush creeping well into her chest and cleavage, it was a dead giveaway.
Scott glanced to his wife and he grinned. Bridget smiled at her, a playful glint in her eyes. “So this is what it’s like when Esther Martin flirts, hmm?”
That made her turn even redder, like a juicy, ripe, red tomato. “What are you talking about?” She picked up her beer to take a needing sip before realizing it was empty.
“You’re totally flirting with him.”
“I am not!”
“You totally are.” Scott chimed in and Esther sent him a glare that was hardly menacing.
“We were just talking. He’s been really nice to me today considering some things.” When they asked, Esther felt she couldn’t hide it from them so she told them about Abby. Their faces dropped and Bridget looked devastated.
“And we told you that we’re pregnant.”
“Guys, stop, honestly. Coming to the bar and hearing your news, definitely put a brightness to my night that I needed. I’d take that than condolences about Abby. I swear, I’m fine. Even better, to be honest.”
“Yeah, I’m sure if you’re taking that home with you.” Scott chuckled.
“Which by the way you two seemed to be talking, we’re thinking that’s a definite yes.” Bridget grinned.
“Stop that.” Esther hissed, waving her hand at them. She looked back to see Mr. Pratt coming back and she turned to look at Scott and Bridget. “Shush, he’s coming back.”

Turning their attentions back to cleaning, they kept an eavesdropping ear on the two of them. Scott even seemed to notice that sly action of Mr. Pratt’s hand slipping behind Esther in a discreet way. He could only imagine, as he often gave Bridget that slip, normally to her rear and down into her panties. Depending on how lucky he could be without getting a swat from his wife.

Esther seemed to blush madly, feeling his hand resting on her bum, giving it even a pinch which made her sit up, an obvious indicator as to where exactly his hand was. She bit down on her lower lip and looked to him, listening as he seemed to smooze his way towards Scott and Bridget before stealing her away. She glanced back to them and Bridget made a motion, using her hand, to display a blowjob and Scott rolled his eyes. “Don’t forget protection otherwise we’ll have double births…” He said in a sing-song tone that thankfully fell on deaf ears to Mr. Pratt. It served to only make Esther’s eyes widen as she turned away with Mr. Pratt, walking out of the bar with him.

The night air was nice, not too cold and not too hot. Summer was definitely gone away and Autumn had already come way. The green leaves had turned amber and close to brown, close to falling as well, the streets becoming littered with them in the passing days. The heat was gone, leaving a more comfortable temperature of either 60 or 70 degree weather. It wouldn’t drop down to the 30 or 40 degree weather until around November and December. It also just gave her body the kind of cooling down she needed, making her realize just how hot it was in the bar. It wasn’t the bar in reality, it was just Esther and the teasing she was getting not only from Mr. Pratt—although a different kind of teasing, the kind that made her even more erotically charged—but also from Scott and Bridget as they had never witnessed her picking up a man. Normally, they or Abby were the ones setting her on dates. She had never picked up one on her own, especially in their presence.

She seemed to do well.

Looking to him, she laughed lightly, a bit of embarrassment coursing through. Not that she was ever embarrassed about her car but it was one of those cars you didn’t forget. Something distinct about a car named Hiccup. “It’s the red one, here.” She laughed a little nervously. Oh, she could almost taste the wine as it would give her the liquid courage she’d need to enjoy a night with one of the city’s most eligible bachelors. “Come on Mr. Drunky, let’s get you in my car and then we’ll get you all properly sorted in the safe and private confines of my apartment.” Safe and private, yes, although not so very comfortable. It was a hole in the wall room with only one bedroom, one bathroom and a small space that connected the kitchen and meager living room together, with no barrier between. She didn’t even have room for a laundry room, no that was what the Laundromat was for.

Getting to her car, she fished her keys out of her purse and unlocked the doors for them both before getting in. Her car didn’t have air for two years now, something she didn’t feel the need to fix because it was nothing compared to if her actual transmission or engine blew. No, she was saving the necessary bucks for if and when that happened. She hoping not for another year or two, although that seemed likely.

Starting the engine, she pulled off the curb and drove the small distance it took to get to her apartment. Parking in her designated parking spot, she got out and quickly led him inside. She lived on the second floor, the first door to the left that came into view when one got off the stairs. Walking inside, she let him through before shutting the door and locking it. From there, Esther tossed her keys and purse onto the little table by the door and slid her shoes right off, leaving them off to the side near the table. “Make yourself at home.” She motioned to the small loveseat, the only piece of furniture she had in the living room as she walked over into her kitchen and pulled out the bottle of red and a glass. “Can I interest you in some wine? Feel free to say no? It’s five dollar red, cheap, cheap, cheap. But it does the trick.” Which was inherently true. It was clear that Esther was in need of some liquid courage with how quickly she drove, ushered him in and the first thing she went for was wine.

“Make yourself at home.”

Pratt had very few inhibitions and making himself at home was certainly not one of them. He nodded his head and made his way towards the lone item of furniture that looked a bit lonely in the apartment. Much like Esther. Upon the way he noticed a row of five hooks screwed into the wall, and took the opportunity to relieve himself of the suddenly overly tight suit jacket. The tie he had previously removed was still in his back pocket, and he followed it up with removing a few more buttons down his dress shirt. Finally he removed the watch, and placed it safely within the breast pocket of his jacket. Back on his way to the love seat, an aptly named piece, ain't it? He undid the cuff links of each sleeve, and completely removed his shirt from the waistband of his shirt. Knowing it would be improper to go any further, Pratt did at least feel much more comfortable by the time he slipped into the rather comfortable chair. He gave the apartment a once over, and decided it was certainly not the worst place he had ever visited, but the rent was also far too high for a place like this. Deciding he would introduce Esther to a Realtor friend of his named Malcolm the next day. Hopefully he would remember.

“Can I interest you in some wine? Feel free to say no? It’s five dollar red, cheap, cheap, cheap. But it does the trick.”

"I can't be refusin ya Esther, but'n'I'll jus be stickin wit a petite tumbler den." He smiled over at her, wanting to refuse the cheap wine but deciding quickly that it would be rude. Wine was meant to be drank with food, in Pratt's mind, and even then it was not his preference. However it was obvious that Esther needed some, and needed someone to drink it with. The thought struck him that Esther probably did not do this very often. As he noticed her shoes lying on the ground, he went ahead and slipped his own off before sliding them underneath the seat. No, he was quite sure that she hardly did this at all. He had known she worked the bar and at the firm before he even knew who Abby's friend was and as busy as she had to be there could hardly be much time for this. A Saturday morning free had to be a luxury that was not easily given up for anything, let alone recovering from a night out. Pratt felt a bit of unease sliding across the small of his back as Esther made her way towards him with two glasses, and the wine in her hands. He wasn't entirely sure why, he had done this plenty of times before, and while most of the woman were unlike Esther. Most had certainly not worked two jobs. More than a few had been hardworking professionals who also did not really have the time to devote to a recovery from a night like this, let alone a man. Granted, he had never really been in it for a relationship so it mostly worked out. Still, perhaps it was the combination of everything this evening that made him a little uneasy.

That feeling faded as he took the glass that was offered to him, and glanced into Esther's eyes.

Seeing through his alcohol induced haze, the beginnings of the same for Esther, and the nervousness that clouded everything else in her beautiful face was hard. He only saw a glimpse of the need that was resting somewhere within the apprehensive beauty in front of him. It was enough to clear his mind of any of his own doubts, and fill it with desire. A mixture of simple lust, and the sudden empathy he felt to help ease Esther's equally sudden timidity. Reaching with his free hand, Pratt slipped it around Esther's waist just as she finished pouring her first drink. With a light tug he tripped her legs against his own, and guided her into a graceful fall. The love seat was big enough to fit two if each squished to the side, but Pratt, as was his custom, and sat directly in the middle. Esther landed softly with her butt tucked between the armrest and his leg, with both of her legs draped gracefully across his thigh and her feet off the ground. The soft gasp, and start of surprise brought a grin to Pratt's face and a chuckle crossed his lips. Leaning over he kissed her lightly on the lips, before settling back into his seat and raising his glass for a toast.

"Ta tricks, superb co'ordination," He motioned to her glass, which had not spilled a drop, "An Mr. Drunky!"

He laughed loudly, enjoying the verbal self-flagellation a bit more than the red as it touched his lips.

He smacked them once, and nodded a sort of confused approval, "I spose tis tanks ta Mr. Drunky tat it tastes well'nough."

Throwing Esther a wink, he took another sip, and shook his head. "Naw, na nearly as sweet..." He trailed off, his eyes twinkling in a mixture of mischievousness and enjoyment of the 'suspenseful' moment. "As schweet as'n ya, missy," He leaned over for another kiss, this time letting it linger to see what sort of response there might be hidden underneath Esther's beautifully composed expression.

She didn’t blame him. If there was absolutely any way that she could afford some better stuff that cost around maybe…ten or fifteen dollars, she would. Although for him, that may still be cheap. But then again, the one time Esther did try really fancy wine, they played a game where she was to guess how much it cost. In her opinion, some five dollar bottles tasted a lot better than what she drank. So the look of horror on the hostess’ face when Esther guessed only twenty dollars—because it was a pretty fancy shindig—was one she would never forget. It made her laugh so hard when she was told that the white wine she was drinking came from a bottle that cost $150 and because she had a little bit too much of it to drink, she ended up insulting the hostess’ poor taste in wine. Suffice to say, Esther was never invited to one of Abby’s stepmother’s shindigs.

That was when their ritual wine nights spawned off and she was able to enjoy the real five dollar bottle of wine that got her and Abby sloshed, just as easily and as much as that very expensive wine that tasted nowhere as good. In her mind, it tasted like actual piss. Tasted like piss, looked like piss and even smelled like piss. But hey, if that’s fancy, then no wonder the rich folks were so stuck up that their faces were screwed into that sourpuss face. Must have been a permanent reaction of drinking too many fancy wines that tasted like piss.

A small laugh came from her from the kitchen as she busied herself in uncorking the bottle. “I don’t blame you. Although, if I may, I will speak from good experience that not all expensive bottles tastes great. The last really expensive white wine I had tasted like piss and I was so sloshed, I even made it a point to tell it the hostess.” The cork sprung from the bottle with a pop, impaled by the corkscrew she used and the fresh aroma of bittersweet red wine and its berries filled her nose. Cheap, yes, but it didn’t mean it lacked in scent of flavor. Of course there vineyards and companies that did cater to those who only made so much and couldn’t afford better than five dollar bottle of wines.

Grabbing two deep bowl wine glasses and the bottle, she walked out of the kitchen and towards the living room where he occupied majority of the loveseat. She was about to make a motion that would indicate he ought to scoot it over so she could sit when he did something—that should have failed by all basic and logical proportions considering how drunk he honestly must have been—that had her falling for his charms very quickly. Whether it was a question of how lonely she had been for this long or because what he did would be classified as a girl literally falling for him—and so gracefully too which was something that wouldn’t be classified with Esther—it didn’t matter because it worked. He even did it without making her spill a drop of wine from the bottle or drop one of the wine glasses. Not that she’d be too upset about the wine or the glass, but she would make him pay for the glass. Everything she had in that kitchen was her mother’s and these wine glasses were the ones she had since before she and Esther’s dad were married. Did that classify them as fancy? Maybe. Maybe it’s what made the cheap wine taste better. She wouldn’t know. But they just didn’t make wine glasses like these anymore with such a big bowl that could house half the bottle of wine.

She gasped softly and her gaze lifted up to his and the look of absolute shock and even a tiny bit of embarrassment was evident in her slightly glazed eyes as well as her face, especially by the rise of red in her cheeks. Did that really just happen? And then that kiss. It was so light that by the time she registered his lips touched her own, he was already pulling back before she could go in for more. Tease. Won’t even give me a chance to shove my tongue down his throat. Although that might have been for good reason. She poured them both full and hefty glasses of wine, the bottle empty and more of it in her glass than his since he said he didn’t want much. Very well, more for her.

“I can toast to that. After all, I’m still trying to figure out just how you managed to do that even in your state of inebriation.” She laughed softly before taking a hearty sip of her wine. She drank a good third of it like it was water and while it wasn’t as strong as better bottles, it affected just as well. So for it to go down easier, it still got someone as messed up as a very expensive bottle. Looking up at him, she grinned and shrugged her shoulders. “I think you wear Mr. Drunky just fine. Although I’m sure it does help that you are so sloshed. This isn’t anything fancy, but I kid you not, it does the trick just fine. You’ll see in a moment. Soon I’ll be atop that little coffee table pulling a Coyote Ugly on you and singing bad music while taking my clothes off.” She laughed softly. It was something she could imagine herself doing.

Considering Esther was more of a quiet girl and very soft spoken because of her shyness, it was kind of a shock that when she was drunk, it was like she did a complete one-eighty. She became this wild and outgoing piece of work, much like Abby but quite more belligerent and very horny. Most of her one night stands were only successful because she wasn’t sober. Otherwise she’d feel the sting of their absence a lot more greatly that night as opposed to that next morning where she was too clouded with a hangover to care.

Esther took another sip when he did, hers much longer and draining another good third portion of her glass. Swallowing and exhaling coolly as the wine did burn just a tiny bit down her throat but still went easily, she brought her gaze back to him and grinned, though her cheeks did flush quite exponentially, a sign of her shyness from his compliments as well as the alcohol’s affect on her. “Oh Mr. Pratt…” She began, before his lips touched hers ago. She found that he lingered, giving her a chance to respond instead of a little peck. Esther definitely responded. Her free hand slid around his cheek and she leaned forward, kissing him with a little more oomph than a soft kiss would ask for. Her hand slid along his cheek, his jaw and her fingers threaded into the back of his hair gently, pulling his lips closer like it was so far from hers.

Slowly, she parted her lips from his and her breath came out shakily. Her eyes opened to look his face over and she swallowed hard. She had no idea what she was going to say to him to counter his sweet compliments. No, that kiss left her muddled or the alcohol had really taken affect now. Either way, all she could think about were his lips, their lips touching in a heated kiss and downing the rest of her wine, not exactly in that order. Although she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of his lips.

She made a decision then. Downing the rest of her wine, she very quickly leaned over to place her glass on the table and then in a single fluid motion, her lips were against his and this time she kissed him with a deeper passion than before. Like she was claiming his lips and making her intentions for tonight all the more clear. She’d been pretty serious earlier. If she got drunk enough, she would hop on that coffee table and maybe not sing, but she would be dancing and taking her clothes off. But right now, it wasn’t just her clothes she wanted to take off. It was also his.

The sudden attack nearly made Pratt spill his own drink. Luckily it contained much less of the red than Esther's had, and it was an exceptionally large glass. Only a few droplets made it over the rim, and those quickly slid down into his skin to be absorbed more slowly than what had traveled down his gullet up until this point. He half laughed, and half purred into the wet mouth locked against his, "Mhmmm," Was the sound. His own free hand managed to wrap itself around Esther's side and rest steadily between her shoulder blades; making it far easier for her to press the firm kiss into his mouth. Pratt returned the kiss with rapidly equaling gusto as the sound of her breathing filled his ears and the heat from her body spread along his. Momentarily Pratt attempted to slip his tongue passed her lips, but it was only a moment, for a moment later she accepted it and their bodies connected in an even more electric way. The strong taste of the wine was quickly overpowered by a sweetness and hunger that could only be tastier if it were smothered in chocolate. His own breathing began to labor somewhat as their tongues battled, bringing shocks of pleasure that only hinted in the smallest sense of what was to come later. All too soon the kiss ended, and Pratt took the moment not to regain his breath but finish the wine and set the cup far enough away that it would not become damaged in what was to come.

"Well if'n I'be mistah Droonky, you'll be bein missy hot'n'heavy," Pratt breathed with a smile as he felt Esther's hands on the buttons of his shirt.

He was rather glad that he had removed the majority of them, for he was sure she would have otherwise ruined a several hundred dollar shirt and rip the lot of them from the fabric. Thankfully only a few remained, and he helped her with the last two. The undershirt beneath practically flew off, it was a much simpler process. Meanwhile Pratt had slipped his hands to the tops of Esther's shoulders. Carefully, albeit a bit clumsily, he rolled the lacy material of her corset down to just above her elbows. The reveal of all that bare skin that ended in even more cleavage at the top of he shirt sent his heart pulsing heartily, and blood pooling between his legs into his growing manhood. It made his lips dry too, and so he licked them as his hands dropped onto Esther's lap. Feeling her creamy thighs in his hands continued the buildup, and he grasped the smooth skin in a slowly massaging manner as his eyes finally moved back up to her own twinkling ones.

Leaning forward to plant another kiss on her lips, he was sure that he heard some disappointment as it turned into only a brief kiss. But quickly the sound turned into something more delighted as he moved across her lips to the delicate jawline that he kissed, nibbled, and even lightly sucked as he made his way towards her neck. There he stopped and spent some time ravishing the delicate skin with kisses, suckling, and running his tongue along the quivering skin. Meanwhile, Pratt's hands had moved further and further up Esther's hips until they disappeared beneath her skirt. Quickly the fingertips were brushing at her panties waistband, but instead of diving into that treasure they moved upwards until they appeared at the rim of her skirts waistband. Slowly drifting to either hip, and lifting until his fingers were also underneath the bottom of Esther's corset. Then just as his lips reached her beautifully sculpted ear, and his tongue burrowed into the sensitive cleft, he lifted with both hands. Slowly the skirt drifted upward as the corset rolled up on itself and also made it's way upwards. The pause came just as the skirt was about to lift over Esther's breasts.

With a sigh of his own disappointment, Pratt broke the contact of his lips from her sweet skin, and glanced over at Esther's face. "Ready?" He asked with a broad smile, all she had to do was place both hands over her head and the clothes would come off entirely.

It obviously was not that hard of a decision, as her hands reached towards the ceiling.

"See," He began as the clothing went up and over, "Nah need ta dance, doh I wouldn't mine seein it a'some point."

With a smile, he took in her angelic form with a quiver that went through his body noticeably, "My my, quite da beaut ya be."

It was like a blur but an unforgettable one. The way that soft sound came from him, like a sound of approval, the way his tongue delved into her mouth and tasted of the cheap wine but also the lingering promise of what the night held, it all melted Esther into a very delicious puddle. It was only a taste but it was a taste that ignited her hunger and her thirst and put her well on the path for what tonight held. It was more than just getting into the sack with a man who was probably the epitome of her very hidden fantasies. It was the fact that everything before this moment seemed to fade away and she finally got the solace and comfort she wanted. Her worries and potential nightmares of what this night would hold, the aftermath of Abby’s murder, all disappeared because of this one very taste and the prospect of what Mr. Pratt offered her; an escape.

Much to her dismay, the kiss ended and she once more found herself following his lips in the hopes of rekindling what was stopped. There was the croon of his voice that made her insides boil, that sexy accent laced heavily with all the alcohol he consumed that night and it was a direct hotline to her very core. She was wet and she was so needy, she was practically aching for more, a touch, a kiss, anything.

Her gaze lifted to his, shadowed by her eyelashes and her cheeks turned a deep red, the blush spreading down her neck and coloring the swell of her cleavage in her corseted top. She didn’t say anything. Simply smiled a secret smile while succumbing to the shyness and blush that colored her. He thought she was Miss Hot’N’Heavy but if he only knew just how much she thought him to be Mr. Hot’N’Heavy. But he no doubt knew. A man of his clout had to be aware of the affect he had on women, the affect he was having on her right this moment. It couldn’t go unnoticed. Still, she said nothing as she carefully unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way, thankful for his help as her hands proved far too shaky. His shirt was off and the undershirt he wore was gone just as quickly as well and she marveled at the sight before. Every part of him, sculpted muscle, hard sinew, a divine to touch. His skin was warm, he was hard to touch and she had this very sudden thought of how badly she wanted to bite his pectoral.

Finally, a touch. His hands were only in her lap now, touching the exposed flesh between the hem of her raised skirt and the tops of her fishnet stockings she wore and it sent a heat unfurling throughout her entire being and straight to her core, fueling her need. There was disappointment in the kiss but that was quickly remedied by the travel of his lips. They never left her skin and her eyes closed to half lids as a soft moan came from her. Shivers ran up and down her spine and she melted even more. Esther was very much tuned into the travel of his hands, how she so desperately wanted his hands to dip into the back of her skirt, the back of her panties and feel the soft and smooth flesh that awaited him. Instead, she felt them travel lower and in a matter of seconds, she felt him push the material up, both of her skirt and her corseted top. Her body lifted to accommodate him and as he pushed it up further, creamy white skin of her stomach showed and up. The panties she wore were moderate, simply black cotton panties but they still drew the eye in with the way it shaped her.

His lips contact broke and she was left staring into the pools of his beautiful eyes, her own eyes mirroring the desire and lust she felt that very moment. With a small nod of her head, her breathing hitched in her throat as she raised her arms above her head and just like that, her clothes were off and she was left entirely in just her panties and fishnets. Her skin seemed to flush a deep red at the fact that she was completely bared in front of him. She had a curvy body, slender and soft to touch but even she was self-conscious about it. It had been a long time since a man took a look at her almost naked form, her pert breasts exposed to him, her pink nipples already hardened from the slight cool air after the warm confines of her top and her breathing was already coming faster. The haze of the alcohol induced her need and her feelings.

But his comments seemed to be her undoing and she finally broke her gaze from his, unable to help the involuntary smile that crossed her face as her cheeks grew in color into a deeper blush. “You flatter me.” Her voice was so soft, so shy.
Her right leg bent and she pushed herself up and somehow managed to place herself strategically into his lap and did it without face planting so embarrassingly. Her knees were on either side of him and she lowered herself enough so the heated core punctuated by the wetness in her panties pressed against the growing erection straining his pants. Her hands rested on his chest and she felt brave enough to let her gaze meet his again. Leaning in, she settled for her lips to be just against his in a light brush but not actually pressing into a kiss. “I want you Mr. Pratt.” She almost moaned it. “No, I need you.” She made her declaration and Esther stood by it.

Esther's determined climb atop of Pratt, along with both rather forceful statements of desire and longing was something Pratt had been both expecting and hoping for most of the past hour. It sent a rush of alcohol fueled adrenaline surging through his body, heating it unbearably until the lightest of sheen's could be glimpsed along his skin. The feeling melded quickly with the erotic sparks that had been sparking and hissing inside of him up until that point. A deeply satisfied growl welled in his chest and was released as a satisfied breath from his lips. Immediately the sound was followed by the anticipating inhalation of more oxygen to fuel the fire growing in leaps and bounds both between his legs, and his ears deep in his mind. His thoughts turned to one thing; providing a satisfaction for the both of them. For Pratt anything to satisfy the desire that was curling his fingers and moving muscles before his mind had any idea what exactly it was going to do. For Esther it was to quench the need to make this night a blissful ignorance of the previous hours, and soak the wanting up in such a way that i would continue to drip all evening and make the quenching need completely disappear while keeping the want, wanting.

"Aye," He breathed with another drought of her delicious form. It was everything a man could want, and he wanted it badly. The throbbing between their legs only proved that thoroughly. "I be feelin it," His hands moved down her bare shoulders, and slid between them to brush against her beautifully symmetrical and luscious tits. "I be wantin it too," And that, he decided, was enough talking.

The hardness from his cock seemed to spring to his hands as he grasped Esther's breasts and molded them together in his fists. His legs too, gained some of the strength and they moved his hips to rub their crotches together. The strength grew with the frustration of finding his cock blocked by their combined fabric, however wet, and hot it was. Pratt's head bowed to where his hands held her breasts and sampled the skin on his way down, the slightest saltiness, mixed with the aroma of her perfume and faintest flickering of what was beneath served to flood his mouth with saliva and desire. A wet line stretched it's way down her cutely flushed chest until arriving at it's destination. Where his hands had been busy alternately digging different fingers into the soft flesh in a sort of gyrating massage, ending only when his mouth had arrived. Pratt immediately suctioned his wet lips against the cool air, hardened nubs. As they popped past his lips, scraped against his teeth, they were finally met by his slippery but rasping tongue. Esther's reaction heightened the frustration between his legs as his cock strained painfully to break free from the all encompassing trousers. He moved to the other nub, and repeated the process but this time seized the sensitive nipple in his teeth and applied pressure so that when his tongue brushed over the already inflamed nub the reaction was even stronger.

This served to make his trapped cock even angrier, and a small bit of pre-cum would leave a stain behind before it was freed.

With a growl of his own desire to see his cock freed, Pratt kept his mouth locked upon Esther's nipple, but his hands left.

She could feel it just as well, if not better than him, and aided as best she could as his hands dropped to his trousers, undid the belt, the button, and the zipper before half-standing and sliding the pants and skivvies down around his ankles in one movement. Before even settling back down into the comfortable making-love-seat, Pratt's hands also tugged the lacy panties down Esther's hips to her knees. He could not get them any further off because of their position, but it did not matter now. His cock was free, and even the cool air of the apartment did not diminish it straining to achieve the largest size it possibly could. As they settled back into the fuck-seat, Pratt briefly felt his manhood slide against Esther's now bared entrance, but not yet within. Their joint groan of disappointment and anguish at the drunken missed aim nearly had Pratt in stitches of laughter, but the thought was quickly overrun by how to rectify the situation. In all the movement his lips had finally separated from Esther's breasts, but they had latched to her previously flushed neck and he was nibbling gently as his hands moved to the firm butt cheeks that sat comfortably on his thighs. Without any pretense he squeezed the flesh into his hands rather sharply, eliciting what may have been a squeak, but also what certainly was a rise in Esther's hips. The squeezing grasp enabled him to lift her delicate and incredibly sexy frame from his thighs to a height that allowed his cock to settle underneath her risen body.

Finally with a blissful grin as he looked up from beneath Esther's breasts he lowered her slowly until he was sure the head was nestled inside of her pussy, Pratt lowered Esther onto his cock with slow decency as a final growl of delight slowly slipped from his chest and lips.

The first amazing thought to cross his mind as her beautiful body accepted his firmness after the initial explosion of pleasure was of how incredibly tight Esther was. He fit, of course, the lack of a monster cock had never bothered Pratt or any of his partners. What was better though, was how everything about Esther fit so perfectly together. Her best friend, one of the more outgoing personalities Pratt had met was an exact opposite to the shy woman now making love to him. Except of course, aided by the alcohol that had mostly changed Esther into the same type of extrovert as her best friend except, again, in the last few moments as her exquisite body was fully revealed to him. The shyness that bubbled so sweetly through her voice, the red flame of nervousness as if a virgin, the shivering and incredibly erotic honest reactions to his touch and his words made Pratt feel quite... Well he wasn't sure exactly how it made him feel, but it was almost... Lucky, or indebted to be able to be the one to unleash all of these feelings that were obviously buried somewhere deep inside this amazing woman. It was almost like it being her first time, but all over again and Pratt was enjoying the feeling nearly as much as Esther herself.

As his pulsing, thickening, heated tool drove deeper within her confines a shiver ran through his spine like wind through bare trees in the winter. "God," He breathed as he was reminded by rhythmic clamping, and shuddering pulses that milked the pre-cum from his cock that Esther had, in fact, done this before. Glancing up he found her soft breasts just below his mouth again, and kissed one, then other, as his face and slightly rough chin slid up her chest, into her neck, until he was able to kiss her once again full on the lips.

She gasped softly at the feeling of his rough and calloused hands finding their way to her full breasts. She wasn’t abnormally busty, not even busty really. For her frame and size eight figure, her breasts seemed to compliment her body, being of proper size and proportion to her curves. All through high school Esther had been a C-cup. She was a bit heavier then and it wasn’t until she got more active, mostly from dance and color guard. She dropped her weight quickly but her assets never seemed to go away. And after high school, at some point her breasts required a D-cup instead of a C-cup. It’d been that way ever since and well the men at the bar never seemed to complain when she’d purposely push the cleavage up for their viewing pleasure. Bigger tits equaled bigger tips.

That and when she turned twenty-one and Abby took her out for her birthday to celebrate being able to finally drink legally, they both played ‘Hello-Titty’ with the bartender several times. Together, they paid fifty dollars in drinks. The rest had been because of taking advantage of their assets. All Abby’s idea and Esther was easily susceptible to it after the fifth beer and fifth birthday shot. She hardly remembered that night. That meant it had been a really good night and night’s mission had been achieved; Esther got really wasted that night, far more than she was right now. Obviously.

Right now, the only thing she was very aware of was Mr. Pratt’s straining erection pressing against her soaked panties and his lips and teeth teasing her nipples. Her hands slightly shakily slip up his shoulders and around his neck, as if encouraging him and holding him close to her while he enjoyed what she had to offer. She wasn’t complaining one bit. No, the moan that came from her begged to differ immensely.

The things he did only flamed her need and her arousal further. It had been so long since a man actually took the time to please her body and Esther wasn’t used to it. It only made her more sexually frustrated and she just wanted his cock inside of her right now but she knew it would be worth the wait. She was a firm believer that if a man took the time to butter up the woman nicely before plunging deep within her, he was so worth it in bed. That meant he didn’t just care about his pleasure. He cared about hers as well. That half of his pleasure came from enjoying her before delving into the main course. That was rare to find in a man. Not many felt that way. Certainly, most of the men she had slept with in the past that served to be horrible dates and something satisfying one night lays, didn’t do this. A couple of them did and Mr. Pratt was going against the bar they had raised but very quickly, he was already raising it.

She felt his hands disappear from her body and she knew why, her own hands quick to aid and soon the barrier between them was disposed of. Her panties were aside and she felt him against her, a whimper of disappointment coming from her when he plainly missed actually pushing into her. Because of their current state of inebriation, even she wanted to laugh but she held back, instead taken aback by his willingness to rectify the situation. Her hands moved back around his neck, her fingers sliding into the soft locks of his hair and she held on, her back arched and she filled his hands with her bottom even more, the very pressure of the squeeze making shivers run up her spine. If he spanked her right there, she just might cum. That had always been such a turn on. Being spanked. Some men had given her a proper hiding in the past and it proved to be delicious. Her first boyfriend Chad made her discover just how much she liked to be spanked. Only he thought it weird and didn’t do it often. That helped to fizzle their sex life. The couple of one night stands she had after college that proved worth while and raised the bar, they made her cum alone from spanking and while going down on her. At this point, since she was so ready to burst, one spank here and another there just might be enough to be her ultimate undoing.

It was on the tip of her tongue, to ask him to spank her, but she felt him lift her and she felt the head of his cock push against her entrance. It stopped her from asking and instead, she enjoyed the sensation of his wide expanse stretching and filling her like none had done before. Her hands slid down to his shoulders and she dug her nails into them, her eyes closed and her head tilted back as a deep moan filtered from her. All inhibition was stripped away and all she knew was the pleasure that she was about to feel and that he was the one to give it to her.

Her wet pussy clamped down around his thick shaft and she felt the slide of him ease further into her, deeper until she sheathed him to the hilt. One hand slid up into the back of his hair and it was like she was tuned into what he wanted; her lips. Her head dipped down and she met his lips in for a deep kiss. Esther was ready for this show to get on the road. Either that or she was going to beg him to spank her until her ass cheeks were bright red, left with the imprint of his hand on each cheek, and make her cum so hard, she would momentarily forget her name. But right now, she needed his cock, she needed to feel the immense pleasure she got from moving up and down, from him thrusting. That satisfaction that she could only get from this penetration and the kind she felt like she hadn’t gotten in forever.

Esther lift her hips, using her knees on either side of him as an anchor, and lifted up on him, feeling the slide of him out of her before she slowly lowered back down, sheathing herself around him tightly once more and getting that second bout of immense satisfaction; movement. She moaned softly into the kiss and her tongue pushed into his mouth. Now this was sex.

Pratt's breath hitched slightly with ease rise and sudden drop that Esther started. The pleasure was something else as her insides gripped, milked, vibrated, and all in all pleased the hell out of his cock. The experience of his life helped keep any possible thought of the midevil notion that he needed to be on top on this situation. There was no point, and he was perfectly comfortable right where he was. In fact, he was not simply comfortable but immensely pleased with the way Esther began their intimate togetherness. The moans he felt through his mouth, and hot breath pouring from her nose onto his sensitive face told him that she quite liked it too. A mutual arrangement that was unfortunately all too uncommon. The woman Pratt slept with ranged far and wide across the spectrum of introvert, to extrovert, to power hungry, to shy, and back again. Sadly the most common trait that they all shared was after the initial foreplay, flirting included, once they actually reached the act that the entire night had been leading up to the majority of them turned in missionaries. Not in the sense that they were prude and no longer wanted sex, but the vast majority would simply lay back, spread their legs, and wait for him to start pumping. He did of course, hoping that at some point the two of them would begin to tango as opposed to him simply fucking by himself. It was almost like just masturbation with a life sized doll. As thankful as Pratt was that Esther was not one of these women, he even let the words slip from his lips, "Thank God." In between kisses.

He saw a slight reaction from Esther during her steady rocking, and he clarified, "Tank God I found ya."

Still, Pratt did not want Esther to have to do all the work, and even now he was thrusting his hips upwards as best he could from his sitting position. Adding perhaps a quarter inch, and the faintest bits of extra pressure to each thrust as they moved together. It did not feel like it was quite enough, not with how beautiful and rather special Esther seemed to be this entire night. Pratt tried more, leaving her hips with his hands and traveling along smooth flesh up her abdomen to her breasts that he grasped again and squeezed in time with her rising and falling. The thrusts bounced each hand closer and closer to the end of each breast before finally just his fingers were gently squeezing the very tips, and a final thrust threatened to break his grasp. One hand, in fact, did release itself for the briefest of moments before taking another full handhold. However, the other hands fingers managed to lock more firmly on the tiny nerve that could release so much pleasure. Instead the thrust twisted his grasp, as the fingers twisted her sensitive flesh he felt an incredible lurch between his legs. Esther had tightened up on him considerably, and briefly the thought that she enjoyed a bit of pain crossed Pratt's mind.

While the majority of his one night stands had been as interesting as using his left hand, instead of the right, a few had more than caught his attention. Of these few even a fewer had enjoyed teasing him up to a point that his temper was broached. The spankings, slaps, and more painful nips, pinches, and rather violent fuckings had turned them on to no end. Pratt's domination complex had always been focused outside the bedroom, within it he certainly preferred to be in control, but did not take it so far as to make anyone call him Master or Sir like those silly porno's sometimes did. He had enjoyed those situations however, allowing something of the inner beast inside of him out, but there had always been a ritual to it. An unendurable tease most often followed by either the question, 'Are you gonna punish me?' With the batting of eyebrows, or in some cases a more forward approach of placing his hand around their throat, or slapping him so that he had no other course to take besides slapping them back. All of which was followed immediately by some groan, moan, or seductive cry that told him it was ok to proceed. In Esther's case none of that had happened, but certainly her reaction had been positive, as opposed to a scream or nervous biting of the lips. Deciding to take a chance, he reversed the direction of his tugging and pinched the nub in the opposite direction, and at the same time moved his lips across her cheek until they rested against Esther's ear.

"Didja en'joy dat?" He hissed, before doing it again, only this time a bit slower and backing his face off so that he could watch her eyes.

Esther would have and probably should have been worried about this position. Being on top was never her strong suit. She felt she always did it wrong or didn’t have enough drive or was slender enough to be able to move on a man properly. Mr. Pratt didn’t seem to mind and she was finally getting the full deliciousness of this position because even as she moved slowly enough, his thrusts up into her proved just how powerful and amazing this position could be. She heard from Abby that riding a man was always fun because he could be felt more. Esther hadn’t always been so sure. But she understood now. Each time he thrust upward, it felt like the tip of his cock collided against her g-spot. It sent a rolling sensation of deep pleasure through her each time. It was almost too good to be true that he could actually do that. Not many men could. In her experience, only two had been able to do it. Not even her ex-boyfriend did it. Chad like vanilla sex. Esther like the more exotic and daring flavors.

She learned early on what her favorite position was. It never was missionary. That she believed was the perfect position for making love. Not for hot, heavy, rough fucking. Unless of course her legs were pushed upward that her knees pressed into her chest and he was incessantly thrusting so hard into her that each thrust collided with her g-spot and sent explosion after explosion of pleasure through her. That happened with one of the guys who raised the bar. She almost cried when she came. Riding had always felt awkward but with Mr. Pratt, he actually seemed to encourage her and seemed so…relieved that she was riding him as opposed to something boring that she felt like she might actually be doing it right. But her actual favorite position was when a man took her from behind and it was mostly because she felt it the most in that position and it was perfect and easy access to be spanked repeatedly until her ass cheeks were as red as a ripened tomato.

Right now though, she felt this was perfect. They were taking their time and really feeling things out. It had been so long for her, that this slow moving allowed her to adjust fully around him so he didn’t hurt her. Not that he probably could. She liked the pain. She liked penetration too much that it probably never could hurt unless it went south, literally. She liked to believe the ones that said it hurt, didn’t enjoy it as much as she did. Maybe she was simply a masochist like that. She liked the pain, it pleased her and made her wet. It’s why she enjoyed being spanked so much. It wasn’t demeaning but it made her feel naughty, dirty and it made her feel like she was really giving in to her more carnal desires. And a man who could enjoy spanking her as much as she enjoyed being spanked was her kind of man.

Her hands rest on his shoulders but her fingers bent and her nails dug into his flesh. She held on tightly and a lurch of pleasure surged through her. He had been playing with her breasts and the combination of her riding movements and his thrusts, pushed his hands apart so only his fingers grasped her nipples and it was delicious. It stung but the proper stimulation of those nubs that he was doing perfectly sent a jolt right through her and made her clamp down around him. It was rare that someone could make her feel good by her nipples, by her breasts. Usually she hardly felt anything from that and if she felt anything, it was always pain and not the good kind. But he did something that was a direct hotline to her pussy and it surprised her. But he seemed to like doing that as much as she liked him doing it to her.

He did it again and her body shook a little bit and her hips gave an involuntary push into his, making his cock bury deeper inside of her tight and wet confines. “Yes…” She hissed, leaning forward and raking her nails down his back. It was on the tip of her tongue, to ask him to spank her but she felt she shouldn’t. In this position, he could easily spank her and she was itching for it. That plunge of pleasure of what it felt like to be thrust into while being spanked. She needed it but still, she didn’t ask for it. She wasn’t yet sure how he would react to that. Some men it was easy to tell. With Mr. Pratt, she honestly wasn’t sure and the last thing she needed was for him to recoil and rebuff her the way Chad often did.

“Do it again.” She whimpered, leaning down to lightly bite his shoulder as she gave her hips a bit of a roll. Her insides were on fire and her she could already feel that build up in the pit of her stomach. It didn’t mean anything instant. It just meant she was well on the right path. Her gaze lifted to meet his and pleaded with him to do anything, something. She needed more than this gentle rocking. Maybe she was too impatient or too excited. She just wanted…she needed it rough. Like two incredibly lust-filled beings getting totally lost in the wild abandon of sex. Nothing about her screamed gentle. She could handle the rougher side of things. If only she could find some voice in her to make him do just that.

If Pratt had been unable to tell earlier the hot streaks that mixed both pleasure and pain on his back, and 'gentle' little love bite that Esther had suddenly bestowed upon him were unmissable signs that she wanted more, and she wanted it now. The hotly breathed demands also aided in telling him exactly what she wanted. Lastly, the almost desperate clenching of her insides against his cock, and the way she lifted and dropped her body with uncontrolled force added into a subliminal, but quite obvious demand. Still, Pratt was a bit reluctant to make the leap. So far things had been going so, so, so very well with the way the night unfolded, and he could feel the climbing pleasure building into what would surely be a delightful climax for the both of them. It had been cute, gentle, flirty, and fun this night, but all of sudden there were obvious signs for something much more bare, much more base, much more animal, and much, much more rough. A shiver ran from his neck, through his powerful chest, and down to the base of his spine. The thought of fucking Esther in that way was rather pleasing and the balance of his reluctance to sudden urge to answer her desire began to most precariously tip in the direction of the latter. Turning this most sweetly seductive night into one that contained sweating, hot, grinding, moaning, panting bodies pressed against each other in various ways would be exciting at not entirely wrong. Instead of keeping something sweet and a bit simple as he was sure they both originally intended, it would get spicy and twisted into all manner of complex feelings that might make the morning interesting, but would certainly make this night one to remember. All of a sudden he was sold.

It was not the promises of spice and twisting, but the look he suddenly found himself swallowed in as he stared into Esther's eyes.

Yes, she needed it, and wanted it to turn into something more than a nice lay.

Thinking of himself in that way began a smile on Pratt's face, but what grew it into a knowing and excited beaming ray of energy was Esther's reaction.

"More," It was not a question. Not as Pratt's powerful hand slipped between Esther's thigh and his own. He lifted her thigh off his own before twisting and sliding himself from underneath Esther. Not wanting to leave her alone for long, he stood quickly and the alcohol finally caught him, he stumbled slightly, falling forward as he turned to face her back. Falling into Esther he pushed her still kneeling form into the back of the love seat, pinning her rib cage into the top of the seat and bending her head over the back. Chuckling softly, Pratt found that the fall had placed him nearly exactly in the position that he had desired to be in before even stumbling. Blowing, and then swiping Esther's hair to the left side of her neck, he freed the right so he could lean in and nibble briefly against the delicate skin. The nibbles were not as soft as before, not now that he had found she rather enjoyed the roughness a bit more than anyone would have expected. Slowly the crept up her neck, leaving a line of angry red mark, until he reach the lobe of her ear. Softly he breathed against her skin just as his cock settled between her thighs and the thick throbbing head pressed against her wet sex.

"Ya want more, an I'll be givin it," The hot breath and excitedly spoken words both blew their way into Esther's ear. "Only question bein, ow'hard ya wannit?"

Pratt's hand slipped between the couch and Esther's slick chest, searching and finding the nipples he had just earlier been experimenting with. He pinched it a bit softer than before, but at the same time his other hand had slid down her back and over Esther's hips. He pinched her butt at the same time as he pinched her nipple. The jump and subsequent fall placed a quarter of his cock inside of Pratt's lover. A light bulb seemed to go off in his head then, remembering the pinch he had given her on the butt to start them off after he had miss aimed, and the pinching of her nipples. God, how hard she had clamped down on him. Slowly the hand on her ass spread like a spider, before forming into a paddle. The hand around her nipple slipped up and grabbed Esther's shoulder from the front. Pulling down and towards his hips as they pushed up and in. Just as Esther's butt collided with his hips, Pratt raised his hand and gave a light slap of the fleshy white globes that flex in front of him. "More?" This time it was a question, and Pratt waited for the answer as he held himself deep inside of this pleasurable hold.

Would he get it? Did he get it? Could he get it?
”More.” It wasn’t a question. It was as if he saw the look in her eyes and understood plain and clear, the way her reactions to the things he did to her that naturally elicited pain as much as pleasure, he now knew that Esther needed it more than sweet and gentle. Tonight she didn’t need love making. As much as she just wanted to be in the arms of a man while he took her and gave her pleasure she hadn’t known for so long, it quickly turned into the need to be taken. Not just taken like given pleasure. Taken, like at the end of it, she would know no other name but his because she would have screamed it over and over again. She wouldn’t feel the pain and sadness she felt over Abby’s death or her own intermittent loneliness. She wouldn’t wake up alone tomorrow morning feeling dissatisfied and once more waking up to a day that was as boring and eventless as the one prior, where she made no headway in rectifying her loneliness.

Instead, she would wake up feeling so well rested, like she unleashed years of pent up tension and aggression. She’d wake up knowing that the tenderness and soreness between her legs was from his incessant and merciless thrust in and out of her. She’d wake up with the warmth of a male body beside her who actually wanted to stay the night and not leave right after the deed. It held so much promise and it was exactly what she wanted and needed.

He made to move, shifting their position and standing. But he stumbled, although seemed to correct himself quickly and actually falling into the right position as she found herself facing the back of the love seat as opposed to facing away from it. He was behind her and all excitement spiked in her. He was going to take her from behind. He really was and she could hardly contain herself. It took all she had not to just pull him closer behind her, position him at her entrance and push back to claim what she wanted so badly, exactly how she wanted it. Instead, she steadied her hands on the top of the love seat, her entire upper torso pressed into the back of it and she was on her knees with her bottom right there for him, her pussy drenched and waiting for what he could give her. Really, really hot drunk sex.

Her eyes fluttered closed and a soft moan came from her as he nibbled on her neck with more tenacity than before. Her head tilted to the side to expose more flesh to him and her hair fell over promptly one shoulder, completely out of his way. His hot breath against her ear excited her even more and she gripped the top of the seat tightly. She’d need something to hold onto for all dear life. “Rough.” She whispered. “I’m not delicate. I can handle anything you give me.” She practically moaned the words out. All inhibitions left after the amount of alcohol she drank and so quickly. Her tongue was loosened up and considering he was already doing what she didn’t even have to ask him to do, she felt she had strength to punctuate even more what she needed and wanted. And hopefully what he wanted too.

There were more pinches and the pinch to her rear caused her insides to jump and her eyes to close as a soft little moan came from her. He was doing this on purpose now, because he knew how well she reacted, how the sensations gave jolts of pleasure right to her very center. But then he did something that surprised her completely. Taking a good hold of her, his hand on her rear disappeared and she was met with a small slap that seemed to further ignite everything that built up. She moaned a clear moan that came from somewhere deep within, like her entire body produced that one and shivers ran through her body. “Yes…” She didn’t even have to ask or hesitate. It was all so perfectly timed. Just as he entered her, he finally spanked her and it was more than enough to melt her. This man was a sex god. He knew all the tricks, the perfect timings and definitely didn’t disappoint. How he and Abby ever let themselves go she wouldn’t be able to understand. If anything, she would just want to keep him so he could do this to her. So at least some part of her became sane again because she was having her desires filled and fueled. “Please, Mr. Pratt…oh that was so perfect.” She crooned, praising him as if what he did was the most genius thing ever. “Do it again, please.” Her bottom pushed into his hips and she leaned back a little bit, pushing her torso up and pushing her body back into his, needing to feel as much of him as she could all over her.

Esther set the bar quite high with her moaning desire. She could handle it all, she said. She wasn't a delicate little flower that needed to be plucked gently because if he was rough she would fall to pieces. She said that and in Pratt's mind clearly stated what the rest of the evening would contain in explicit detail though she did not even need to spell it out. She said it, and almost as if on command, he did it. The cry for more fueled resolve through an already fired, sweaty, strong body that reacted like an engine as gas is flooded through the cylinders. Yes, an engine, perfectly tuned and well ordered machinery that put out power in the measurement of horses, not men, and though he knew he was no horse in any sense of the word, Pratt felt like a stallion let out to stud a second later. Even as the first slap faded from memory and began to erase itself from Esther's white skin he found a steady rhythm that was both powerful and well oiled. He move steadily, making sure each thrust was just under enough control that he could steer his rock hard cock to collisions inside of Esther that slowly but steadily began to take her breath away. The pulling out was done in a way to assure his throbbing, mushroomed, slick head did not leave the withering warm folds of her pussy and kept him well balanced. The balance was important, because he only had one hand now firmly latched to Esther's shoulder to keep him steady. The other hand was for something else.

The rippling reactions from where his hand fell against her initially cool, smooth, soft skin reached every corner of Pratt's body. The slap would land and he would first feel the vibration that traveled through Esther's body. The next ripple was squeezing, clenching, massaging, and clutching of his hot tool buried deep inside of her folds. Another delightful ripple was the heat that suddenly began to spill off of Esther's ass against his hips, hand, and continued to warm the oven of her womanhood. Lastly were the delightful ripples that were the reactions that painted themselves across her faith, and echoed from her soft lips. Pratt shivered and felt each ripple as it slowly ebbed the tide of his pending pleasure higher and higher up the shoreline. Still, whether it was the gin or the fact that the entire experience was so good, he felt nowhere near the end of his rope. Even as his breathing deepened and steadied to the point that they could be heard echoing about the room over and over again. Sweat dripped from his chest to add to the growing wetness's between their legs. Their skin moved together with hardly any friction thanks to the lubrication, and only a sweetly sound of slithering to attest to the fact that they were moving.

A sound that was quickly erased by the increasingly louder, and louder sounds of Pratt's hands impacting with Esther's ass.

The skin that had been pearly white with only a flush of red from their exertion was quickly becoming bright, bright red. The glistening of sweat only causing it to glean brighter and brighter. For a few moments it was only one cheek, but thanks to the steady and well balanced act Pratt was able to maintain as he drove his cock into Esther over and over again, mid-stroke he was able to cross his arm above their bodies, underneath the one holding her for his own balance, and bring his hand down with enough force to cause the other cheek to begin going red. Quite soon this latest trick was able to be fixed into their synergy, with every third or fourth strike raining on the opposite cheek. It was far from monotonous, because of how delightful each and every reaction was that came from Esther's body and mind. A sudden tightening and shudder nearly catapulted Pratt into the crevice of pleasure that seemed to stretch for miles. A grunt, and deep breath along with an immediate freeze to any movement kept him from tipping over the edge. The sudden stop though, finally aided by his intoxication, brought Pratt crashing forward into Esther, slamming her into the love seat and Pratt immediately following into her back. With his feet still on the carpet and one armed pinned underneath both their frames it seemed far too much effort to rise again.

Instead Pratt growled an extremely pleased and rather lecherous sound directly into Esther's ear, the one still clear of hair, and his free hand dug between her body and the seat fiercely while the other hand burrowed backward until they were both upon her breasts. He squeezed powerfully on the flesh he could feel, and created a small pocket between the top of Esther and the seat. Enough so that his fingers could find each delicate nub once again. The gap also gave Pratt just enough room to gain traction with his feet again, and begin to move his hips once again. Now he drove up rather than in, and the new angle caused another shudder to tear through his body. With his mouth so close to Esther's delicious neck, he began to nibble again before it turned into a bite though lower on her shoulder now. She was so delicious, and so sexy, Pratt felt as if he could simply not stop himself. This time the apex of his pleasure was approaching much quicker, and much more violently, there would be no holding back. "God, Esther," He breathed her name in between a nibble, "Yer gonna be makin me..." He trailed off as a groan that turned into a low growl ripped from his abdomen, through his chest, and out his mouth in a hot blast against her skin.

And handle it she did. Spanks were very easily capable of being her ultimate undoing. She never experienced but she always wanted to. To be pulled over a man’s lap or just be on all fours or lying on her stomach and having her two cheeks be completely at his disposal. A spank to her rear and then maybe even a spank in between her legs, the combination of the two being more than enough to push her over until she was screaming out in pleasure. But it wasn’t like that right here. No, with each thrust into her, he rained a spank down on one ass cheek. It added more. She got the full satisfying sensation over and over again of his cock thrusting deep into her by full length and then a delicious spank that got harder and harder each time. Her ass cheek was stinging in such a way that the slight cool air that hit over it made it sizzle with something so profound, it all contributed to how she felt, to how he made her feel, to her pleasure. Their pleasure, really.

Each spank made her insides jump. Her pussy contracted tightly around him as the sensation surged through her. Her body shook, her pussy quivered and it was that same deeply satisfying feeling that rolled through her, equivalent to his cock thrusting so deep each time. It felt one way to him, but for Esther, it was like explosions of pleasure each time that she felt throughout her completely. By the end of this, she was certain she wouldn’t feel her legs and know nothing else but his name that she would have screamed so many times over.

All she heard was her own heavy breathing, his, the sound of his spanks to her rear, alternating now from cheek to cheek, and she felt the slick movement of their bodies together. Her grip on the top of the love seat tightened and if her nails were sharp enough, she would have stabbed it to gain a better grip, it was that good. Her insides were clenching, her mind was muddled and all she knew was the pleasure. Nothing else. She forgot everything else and all that mattered right now was just her and Mr. Pratt and the very naughty thing they were doing. It was so naughty; here she was, Esther Martin just a runner at the firm he had a share in and by extension, he was her boss. Technically he was her boss’ boss’ boss’ boss or something along those lines but he had just as much power in deciding her fate at the firm as her manager did. All he had to do was say a word. But here she was, in her own apartment and he was pummeling her so greatly, she knew she’d be incredibly sore tomorrow. But it was the kind of sore she liked. It was a great reminder of what happened. She wouldn’t forget. She could never forget actual good sex. And this was way beyond good. Esther was going to be ruined for life, it was as if the bar was placed so high, it’d be impossible to reach or meet, let alone surpass.

“Pratt…” She was panting hard, gasping for breath and losing all sense of formalities in using ‘Mr.’ before his name. Their bodies collided into the love seat. He really must have been drunk if he kept stumbling but she didn’t care. No, because all that mattered was even if he did stumble, he couldn’t stop. And he didn’t and now, because of the angle, because his body pushed hers into the love seat, she felt something more.

Esther never really believed in the existence of the infamous g-spot. Until it actually happened before and it made her scream and almost made her cry, the pleasure had been so great. Now, she was feeling it again, that very same feeling of something more than any stimulation to her nipple, neck or clitoris could provide. It was out of this world, she never was able to describe it. Just that it was so good, she had never been so loud before and neither had she ever felt like she might cry. No sex had ever been that good. But then it happened and now it was happening again. Her moans became increasingly louder, cries of passion and pleasure until she had to bite down on her own hand to try and calm herself. Her eyes watered from the intensity of the pleasure, each thrust was hitting her g-spot and making her entire body rock so hard, it was so hard to believe this was happening right now. Of all the men she decided to hit on and bring back to her place, this one actually turned out to be a marvel in bed. He knew what he was doing, took his time to please a woman and half of his pleasure actually came from enjoying a woman to the truest potential instead of a quick few bangs.

“Pratt!” She cried out his name and a couple of tears actually leaked out of the corners of her eyes. He had done it. He raised the bar.
He even said it. He was so close, she knew it. She could feel it and she heard it. That very sexy groan that turned into an even sexier growl and he told her just how close he was. They were both going to. Esther was already there. Her pussy clamped down around his cock even more and she felt a gush of her arousal wash over and the pleasure consumed her, claimed her, as he claimed her. She screamed, unable to help herself as the intensity of such an orgasm took her over the same way he took her; intense, rough and hard. She hadn’t felt an orgasm like this or an orgasm close to this in so long, it seemed so new to her.

Her body shook in his arms and out of this world jolts of pleasure coursed through her at a very quick rate. But it didn’t end. It felt like it was never going to end, that with his incessant and merciless thrusting, he prolonged it.