FAST TRACK FOR MISTY
The senior partners at Rodman, Anderson, Mikishita and Weinstein were all in agreement that the very young and very personable Ms. Misty Weston Jones was on a fast track to a full partnership.
It wasn’t because she was the most skillful attorney working in the corporate law department or even because of her prestigious family connections to a host of deep-pocketed clients. The most unbiased of opinions appeared to have a consensus of agreement that the extremely attractive 28 year old honey blonde with a killer body attained “fast track” status because of her relationship with Mr. Weinstein’s problem son, Anthony.
Mr. Weinstein was the most influential of the partners and their contract of partnership gave him the final approval on all major projects. He was a widower in his early fifties and was known to have a weakness for female rock singers with a liking for rough treatment. That would be considered a drawback for most middle-aged men in his position but Mr. Weinstein was powerful enough to forestall any criticism of his penchant for submissive masochistic young women.
Anthony Weinstein was a different story entirely.
He had been sent down from Cambridge for having outrageous orgies right in the student quarters. It would have all blown over except for the fact that the 18 year old daughter of a University board director became pregnant and given a rather nasty STD on the very same evening. Anthony professed complete innocence but since he was the host, it was his responsibility and he received the harshest punishment.
All of this did not slow young Anthony down at all. In fact, the following weekend he was arrested for being in possession of unauthorized medications at a party which was a scene for the tragic demise of a well-known young actress of very loose morals. The suspicion that it was related to an overdose of unknown substances caused poor Anthony to be detained in the station while the police pursued their inquiries.
Young Ms. Weston-Jones came into the picture because instead of calling an outside attorney for help, young Anthony called the firm’s help-line number to get some legal advice.
It was Misty that answered the phone as the attorney on duty Todd Winters was at that very moment intensely preoccupied on top of his cousin Krista in his Aunt’s spacious country estate several hours outside the city. Misty was well aware of Todd’s absent without leave situation and volunteered to cover for him over the weekend.
“Rodney, Anderson, Mikashita andWeinstein, experts in all things legal. How may I help you?”
“Anthony Weinstein here. I am afraid I am in a spot of trouble. I am in the Paddington station and presently being detained to assist the police in their inquiries into a suspicious death.”
Misty was worried because criminal law was not her specialty and she had never actually represented anyone with a criminal charge. But this was Mr. Weinstein’s very own son and she felt obligated to do something immediately.
“Be sure to not say anything until I can get there Mr. Weinstein. My name is Misty Weston-Jones and I am an attorney at your father’s firm.”
“Most grateful, Ms. Jones, I will be sure to keep quiet until you get here. Please do hurry. These cells are dammably uncomfortable!”
When Misty entered the police station, she drew the attention of the entire male staff and even some of the female staff who were a bit ambiguous in their sexual preferences. Her long straight black hair and her nicely curved legs supported her lush shapely body. But it was her smile and sensuous low-pitched voice that made the desk sergeant stand up and come around to guide her back to the cell of Mr. Anthony Weinstein.
“Follow me, Miss, your man is back here. He has been behaving himself like a good chap so you can go in to talk to him and advise him of his legal rights.”
Misty was a bit nervous as the thick steel door swung open revealing a sleeping form on a long wooden slat hinged into the graffiti adorned cell wall. The DS tapped the shoeless foot of young Mr. Weinstein and told him,
“Upsy daisy now, young fellow. Your counsel is here to give you what-for.”
She saw Anthony sit up and suddenly she was looking into the deepest blue eyes she had ever seen in her entire life. Even at the advanced age of 28, Misty was not well-versed in matters of the heart and had only offered up her female goodies for male pleasure on rare occasions and entirely at her own instigation. Her very first sexual experience was with a close friend of her father. The elderly colonel had lost his wife and Misty had elected to console him in the cloak room of the funeral parlor while the organ played very sad and contemplative hymns. The loss of her cherry in such a circumstance always struck her as being very indicative of her almost non-existent love life.
Since that first sexual experience, Misty had avoided entanglements with handsome young men and had elected to take her pleasures under the guidance of very senior males more the age of her own father. For some strange reason, she felt quite comfortable following their instructions and even called them “daddy” if they requested her to do so. She was not in the least interested in her friend’s tales of lust in the moonlight or of macho men who pulled their knickers down without so much as a “by your leave”.
She much preferred the safety and the gratitude of older men who were most solicitous of her favors.
“Miss Jones, so good of you to come on the weekend. Sorry to meet in such dire circumstances. I do hope my father does not have to hear about this embarrassing peccadillo so hard on the heels of my removal from Cambridge.”
Misty was well aware of the orgies at the well-respected University because they were a constant source of speculation in the lunch room at the office. She just ignored that unfortunate incident entirely and focused on the matter at hand.
“Everything you say to me is in the strictest of confidence, Mr. Weinstein. Please tell me the extent of your involvement in this actress person’s death.”
Misty found it much more comfortable to refer to the dead girl in the most generic of terms to remove emotions from their attorney-client relationship.
“Please call me Tony and I will call you Misty if you do not object. Well, Misty, all I really know is that the party was a great success and everything was just fine until this Miranda person barricaded herself in the back bathroom. It was amusing until we had to get the hinges off in order to get inside. The poor creature was draped over the bathtub in the most dreadful of poses. I don’t believe I will ever forget the sight the rest of my life. I really didn’t know her at all except for her name. Her roommate Derek did work on my motorcar from time to time. I guess he was the one who brought her to the party. He told me this wasn’t the first time she had done something like this. Something about a failed engagement with a pussy hound of a policeman. That’s all I know, I’m afraid. Oh, the pills were just my sleeping pills or I should say a school chum’s pills that graciously let me use them when I was far too charged up to rest properly.”
Misty could tell from the young man’s frankness that he was telling her the truth. She had a knack for weeding out the truth from the lies. It was a very valuable asset for an attorney.
When she talked to the holding officer, she discovered that the only thing preventing young Mr. Weinstein’s release was the refusal to provide a semen sample for DNA analysis. Apparently, the young victim had recently had sex albeit consensual. They supposedly wanted to sort out their list of suspects or even rule it “A death of indeterminate causes” allowing them to close the book. The kindly old DI handed her a small jar for the process.
Misty was elated. All she had to do was to talk “Tony” into submitting a sample of his cum and they could both be away from the station and she could resume her weekend agenda.
“Tony, I have good news and bad news, I am afraid.”
He looked up nervously and with those soft deep blue eyes replied,
“Give me the good news first, I need a lift!”
She smiled and twisted her hair around her finger. It was a silly habit and she seemed to use it more often when she was thinking about boy’s things and “taking it” into her mouth, anus, or vagina. She hoped it didn’t mean that she was seriously thinking about Tony as a partner in such endeavors.
“The good news is we can get out of here almost immediately.”
He smiled and pulled her body next to his in a happy hug.
“Unfortunately, the bad news is you still have to provide a sample of your ejaculate for DNA analysis.”
She held up the pesky jar waiting to be filled.
“I only have two problems with that, Misty. The first one is I have no skill at all in doing such a thing myself and the other is I am a little fearful they will use it for a paternity test on the young thing in Cambridge.”
Misty thought fast and decided action was needed to resolve this problem.
“As to the latter, they can always request one when a civil suit is filed and you have no recourse, so that is a moot point. Now, on the first point, I suggest you pull your thing out and I will do whatever it takes to extract your juices for their analysis.”
Tony looked a bit shocked but dutifully exposed his somewhat larger than normal male appendage for her ministrations.
Misty took some lip cream from her purse to use as a lube and started to stoke Tony’s long shaft with vigorous movements. She found that when she cradled his soft ball sacs, the young man hardened quickly and little sticky drops of pre-cum began to seep from the tiny slit at the top. This was something Misty was well-acquainted with since most of her paramours were of an age that they needed much encouragement of this nature to get them into a proper firing position.
From the corner of her eye, Misty saw the small hatch on the door was wide open and surmised the policemen were watching her efforts with no small degree of amusement.
She looked up at Tony and saw that his eyes were wide open staring in disbelief at her hands wrapped snugly around his thick cock.
“I think I am almost ready to cum, Misty. Do you have the jar ready to catch it?”
Misty displayed the open jar and held it very close to the end of Tony’s long rod. She made eye to eye contact with him again just to gauge his proximity to the magic moment. He reached out with his hand and placed his finger on her lips. Not knowing what to do, she opened her mouth and sucked his finger into her wetness licking it all over with her greedy tongue.
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
The flood of creamy cum spurted out in endless lines of sticky stuff splashing right into the bottom of the jar. Even though the jar was of a fairly large size, it almost threatened to overflow the lid.
Misty found that not only did she had a full jar of young Anthony Weinstein’s cum but her hand and wrist was now covered with his copious load. She quickly screwed on the lid and pulled out her blouse bottom to wipe the residue on her shirt. She replaced her damp blouse inside her skirt and felt the wet bottom of her blouse now rest right on top of a pussy mound awakened by the scent and feel of male juices.
She was certain that she was blushing uncontrollably when she turned in the jar at the counter. The smiling policeman tagged it and gave her a receipt.
“You must be a good attorney to change his mind so quickly!”
Misty keep her mouth shut because she did not want to embarrass herself any further.
She drove Tony back to his apartment and they found it had been sealed with yellow tape. The female constable at the door allowed him to pack a suitcase of clothing under her watchful eye so he could not disturb any possible evidence. She didn’t let him take his camera because of the possibility of photos still in the memory card.
Misty offered to drive Tony to a nearby five-star hotel but he told her he would “shack up” with a friend living not too far from his apartment.
“Hello, Jessica, Tony here, honey. Do you have a spare bed I can borrow for a few nights until the coppers get out of my digs?”
He looked up to the roof of the car as if seeking wisdom from above and in a disappointed voice said,
“Don’t worry your sweet little head, Jesse baby; a visiting mother always has precedence over an ex-boyfriend.”
Before she could stop herself, the sympathetic Misty found herself offering to put the naughty playboy up at her house for a few days.
“You can stay in my town house, Tony. Just remember it is only for temporary and you must behave yourself at all times. That means you don’t come into my bedroom or accidently come into the shower when I am taking a shower.”
Tony laughed but quickly accepted and they quickly got settled down in her comfortable two story home in a posh area of the city. He was impressed with the surroundings and she informed him it actually belonged to her father and had been in the family for “ages”.
The next morning, she made him toast and coffee and he saw her off to work as if he were a “stay at home unemployed” husband lucky enough to have a working wife. The next door neighbor, a very nosy district judge sniffed disapprovingly at the sight of Tony standing in the doorway dressed only in his bathrobe. She gave him the extra key and asked him to put out the cat in the rear yard and let him back in when he scratched on the pantry door.
She walked down the street to the car and was acutely aware of Tony’s eyes on her swinging hips every step of the way.
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<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/straight-sex/fast-track-for-misty.aspx">Fast Track for Misty</a>