Prima Facie (closed)

Moving this scene from The Dreamatorium to its own thread. Thanks for your patience.

Warning: This is going to be about rape. I've asked to play out this scene for personal reasons, but I really don't want to hurt anyone who might inadvertently see themselves somewhere in this story. If you think this might apply to you, please proceed with caution.



"Oh, fuck me!"

Anne Davies's jaw snapped with the sudden profanity, and Sadie stared. Under the circumstances, it was rather inappropriate.

"Ex-cuse me?" she ventured timidly.

Ms. Davies was looking past her with slitted eyes, and Sadie turned her head to look too, but couldn't immediately see the source of the woman's exasperation.

"It's Gordon," she positively hissed.

Sadie blinked, trying to keep up. "Gordon who?"

Ms. Davies gestured with her pointy chin in the direction of two suited gentlemen standing near the entrance. One was slightly younger-looking. They might have been mistaken for father and son.

"Jeremiah Gordon, Defense Attorney. Standing there with your accused," she answered grimly. "No - don't pretend not to look. He sees you looking. That's why he's smiling."

Sadie saw them now, and in spite of the advice, turned away abruptly as she met the stony glare of Daniel Morris. She heard their footsteps approaching even in the busy corridor, and would not look up when they stopped a few feet away.

Her attorney's tone was crisp as she acknowledged them: "Mr. Gordon, Mr. Morris."

"Anne." An unfamiliar voice lingered on the familiarity - his mouth caressed it, so that Sadie wondered if their previous dealings had been exclusively professional. Daniel said nothing. Sadie refused to look up from the floor, and a pair of polished shoes stepped into her line of sight - into her personal space. She imagined she could feel the heat from his body against her bare arms and face. She didn't know which one it was - until he spoke.

"And this must be Sadie." His voice was close, over her head, and smiling. She wouldn't look up. There was a tense moment of silence as she held her breath and waited, frozen to the spot. At last, she heard him chuckle softly.

"Well. I'll see you inside, Sadie."

She raised her eyes to knee level, watching his shoes and pressed slacks walk to the door and hold it for the other pair of pant legs to step into the courtroom. She felt safe enough to look up as Gordon followed his client through the door - and experienced a bad shock when he turned back over his shoulder casually, to look directly at her. He tipped her a wink.

The door swung closed behind him. Her lawyer's sharp face clouded with a scowl and she swore again as Sadie's eyelids fluttered in confusion.

"I should've known they'd get Gordon," Ms. Davies muttered irritably.

"Is - is he - good?" Sadie stammered.

The prosecutor saw the anxiety in her young client's eyes and checked her own emotions, her features smoothing with calm assurance. "He is. But I'm the best," she smiled confidently.

Sadie was still staring at the closed door. She wanted to be reassured.

"Do you believe me?" Ms. Davies prodded gently.

She dragged her eyes away and nodded. Her lawyer uttered a clipped, "Good," and nodded too. "Now tell me this: do you find him attractive?"

Sadie frowned and shook her head in disbelief. She must have heard wrong. "What??"

Ms. Davies was resolute, and repeated herself deliberately. "Gordon. Do you find him attractive?"

Sadie's mouth worked wordlessly, choking on outraged incredulity. Finally she blurted, "He's - my rapist's defense lawyer!"

The prosecutor's expression was cool, merciless, as she replied, "Yes, he is. If he wanted you, would you have sex with him?"

The girl passed her fingers across her forehead, pushing her curls off her face, feeling dizzy and wincing with distaste - had everyone gone insane? "No!! Why are you asking me this?"

Her lawyer held her gaze and spoke calmly, "Because he may ask you, when he has you on the stand." Her mouth twisted on a humorless little smirk. "And if that's going to be your answer, you'd better be able to say it without blushing."

Sadie looked away again. The warmth in her cheeks, which she'd assumed was hot indignation, bloomed into a full-blooded flush as she felt Davies watching her.

Her voice was not unkind when she spoke again.

"Tell him the truth, whatever he asks you - whatever he says. He'll catch you in a lie, and that won't help us."

After a moment, Sadie nodded. She couldn't meet her attorney's eyes. She was afraid of what she might see in them.

Anne Davies's heels clicked on the marble tile, and she put a hand in the small of Sadie's back, guiding her gently towards the door.

"All right," she murmured. "It's time. Let's get this son of a bitch."



Sadie McGinley, 19
Appearance

To the police, he was a villain. To the opposing attorney, he was a harbinger of doom. To the his clients, he was a hero. To himself, he was the only one that really mattered.

It was not getting his clients off that thrilled him, not watching the flustered and woefully unprepared women wilt under his cross examination, their stories twisting and melting like a child's toy in the microwave in front of judge and jury and, most satisfyingly, their own eyes. Oh, it was fun, but it was not about any of that, really. It was about winning. In all things, he strove to be the best. In the courtroom, he would be the best dressed there (his client, he made sure, was a close second). During the trial, he would work tirelessly to embarrass the opposing lawyer. He even liked some of them, fucked more than a few, but once the gavel came down it was game on. And he was always on his game.

He was Jeremiah Gordon, attorney at law.

This case would be no different. They had fucked, both admitted it, and the rape kit had found Daniel's semen inside her to the surprise of no one. The only question was just how much of a fight, if any she had put up. A classic he said/she said. The encounter between them began with her more than happy to blow him, and with it she blew her chances at walking out of the courtroom satisfied. Walking into the courthouse, Jeremiah was practically salivating at the chance to thunder away at the bitch and watch her dissolve.

And then he saw Anne Davies, and his day got better.

Half-turning towards his client, he was smiling at the woman whose day he was about to completely fuck up when he muttered to his client.

"You weren't lying. Nicely done."

Briefcase in hand - dark leather, clearly expensive in the same way that every thread on his body was - his shoes were audible on the hard and reflective floor as his long strides devoured the distance. Of the foursome, he was easily the tallest among them, his frame lean and athletic, and he had grown accustomed to using that size to his advantage. It was interesting what something as simple as being taller than an opponent could do to their psyche.

"Anne."




Once in the courtroom, he was all business. In here, there were too many ears that could pick up stray pieces of conversation, catch a random comment about the nice job his client had done in his choice of a... victim. No, in here it was whispered sentences, and strictly instructions or short, pertinent questions that needed answers. Anything else was for later, in his office over a celebratory drink.

"All rise!"

Unfolding his frame from the hard wooden chair behind the defense table, the impeccably tailored jacket was buttoned and smoothed as the judge entered. A blank yellow legal pad sat before Jeremiah, ready to accept the notes he would scribble as the testimony played out. No detail missed, no contradiction overlooked, no weakness ignored.

His client had raped Sadie McGinley. He had not come out and admitted it to him, but he didn't need to. It was pretty obvious from the story he told when Jeremiah agreed to take on his case. The problem for poor Sadie McGinley was that she had no real evidence, except the sob story she would unspool for the court.

And then Jeremiah Gordon would rape her again. Break her. Shred her. And use nothing more than words to do it.

Sadie followed Ms. Davies to the table, keeping her eyes forward. She wouldn't look - she wouldn't look again, not for anything. She tucked her skirt under her before she sat down. Anne had told her how to dress today: something conservative but feminine; not a lot of skin, but not buttoned all the way up to her chin, either. Think young, innocent and demure, she said - but not Amish. Sadie had settled on a pretty sundress with a modest neckline and a knee-length hem. She'd worried about the color - scarlet woman, and all that - but Ms. Davies was adamant in her approval. Sadie hadn't done anything wrong, and had nothing to be ashamed of.

"Get that through your head," Anne admonished, and Sadie had promised. She believed it, but she was still nervous. She didn't want to be here - not really. She hated confrontation, it was half her problem - and this was going to be rough. Anne had warned her that there would be hard questions, uncomfortable questions - but promised that she would try to ask them, to keep Mr. Gordon from asking them.

"Answer truthfully, but briefly. Don't ramble," she said now in a low voice, as they watched the jury file into the box, "And look at me if you need to, even when he's questioning you, look straight at me."

They rose dutifully as the judge entered the courtroom and took his seat behind the bench. Male judge, but there were several sympathetic-looking women on the jury. "Remember - it's okay to cry, up there," Ms. Davies murmured, her lips barely moving, "In fact, if you can manage a few tears..." She trailed off and only raised an eyebrow at Sadie wistfully, and shrugged. "But don't force it, and don't fake it."

Sadie nodded and nodded, trying to take in all this last-minute advice, already feeling overwhelmed. She glanced at the defense table - a mistake. Mr. Gordon was watching her. Her lawyer cut her eyes at him with a glare as Sadie looked abruptly away. Daniel, at least, was focused on the jury.

The judge was speaking, but Sadie couldn't seem to catch a single word. "You're going to be fine," Anne assured her quietly. "Don't let him get to you. Just look at me. We'll get through this, okay?"

Someone called her name, and she nodded again, feeling her legs shaky under her as she pushed out of the chair, knowing he was watching her as she crossed the room to take the stand and raised her hand to swear meekly to tell the whole truth.

*

Anne started out with the easy questions: how she'd met Daniel in passing, as a friend of her boyfriend's, and how she'd begun speaking to him a few months later, when her boyfriend broke off their relationship.

"And you liked him?"

Sadie stiffened and glanced at the jury. "I liked...who I thought he was," she answered carefully.

"But you thought he was attractive," Anne pressed.

It was too close to the question she'd posed in the hallway, and Sadie turned her attention back to the prosecuting attorney with a hard look. She knew to expect this, but it didn't make it any easier. After a long moment, she conceded: "Yes."

"Attractive enough to sleep with?"

She kept her eyes locked on Ms. Davies. "Maybe," she admitted quietly, "But not right away."

"Why not right away, Sadie?" her lawyer asked, more gently.

"Because -" She could feel herself getting defensive, and made herself stop and take a breath. "Todd was my first, and then he dumped me. I wasn't ready to rush into more sex. And I didn't really know Daniel very well, either."

She peeked up. Ms. Davies offered her a quick, reassuring smile. She looked past her to the defense table, but neither man was looking at her. Mr. Gordon was writing something unhurriedly on a notepad in front of him, and Daniel's head was inclined to read over his shoulder. Neither was smiling.

Ms. Davies walked her through the events of that night - how she'd seen Todd with his new girlfriend and had started flirting heavily with Daniel, finally asking him to come with her to a friend's empty apartment. Just to fool around, just to have some fun and feel better about herself. Not for sex.

"And you told him that?" Anne made a point of asking.

Sadie nodded, feeling more confident. She had, and he knew it. "Straight out, as soon as we got there," she answered. "I said we could do whatever else, but no sex - not that night. And he said okay. He was okay with it."

It was hard to answer the next few questions, but she knew it was necessary to tell the court exactly what had happened.

"We were making out. Kissing, and touching. I took my top off. He fondled me...between my legs. I could tell that he was getting excited, so I...per-performed oral sex on him," she stammered, struggling use the proper terminology and not fall into the slang everyone used. "He, um...ejaculated, and I thought that was the end of it. We had a nap together on my friend's sofa."

A man on the jury coughed. Ms. Davies's voice was solemnly respectful. "What happened next, Sadie?"

She could feel the warmth in her cheeks, and she swallowed. She'd gone over and over this in her head so that she wouldn't forget anything, but it was still difficult to tell.

"Well, he - he woke up, and started kissing me again, and - I didn't know, but he was trying to get - to put his penis inside me. He was erect again, and he just kept trying, until I could feel it - in my vagina, and he was right on top of me. And I said 'don't', and I said 'no' - I said 'no' so many times... But he wouldn't listen to me. And then he was all the way in, and I just couldn't believe it, I didn't know what to do."

Her eyeballs felt hot around the edges, but she couldn't cry. The courtroom was still enough to hear a pin drop. She wouldn't look at him. "I said 'stop', but he wasn't listening to me, so I started to cry. He just kept on - kept...like, bouncing on me, so after a while I stopped saying anything. I just lay there crying and waited for him to be finished."

"You stopped saying 'no'?" Ms. Davies was facing the jury, asking this question for any of them who might be wondering.

Sadie pressed her lips together briefly in exasperation, "Yes, because he didn't care that I was saying 'no'. But I said it at least a dozen times."

"It wasn't what you wanted?" Anne reiterated.

"No," she answered immediately. "And he knew it."

Slightly annoyed at the question, Sadie glanced over at Daniel. He looked bored - impassive - noncommittal. His lawyer wasn't writing now, but was watching her with an expression that was almost sympathetic. She shivered and looked away. Very, very dangerous, to start believing that about him.

Ms. Davies asked her to continue, and it was a little easier now. "It took him a long time. He - pulled out as he was ejaculating. He got me a towel, and then I went into the bathroom to fix myself up. I didn't say anything to him. I guess I was still in shock. I didn't want to believe what had just happened - that I was in the room with a rapist."

Mr. Gordon was still looking at her, but the empathy was gone from his expression - if it had ever really been there. Sadie trained her gaze on her own lawyer's face, but could still feel his eyes on her, as if he could see right into her.

"He walked me to my bus stop. I just went home - I didn't tell anybody, I didn't want to believe it - I just went home and went to bed."

"But you did tell someone, the following day?"

Sadie nodded. "My friend. His girlfriend made me go to the hospital. They found his - Daniel's - semen, up inside me, and they took pictures of the bruises..."

Anne coolly submitted the report and the findings of the rape kit, and held up glossy photos for the court to see: close-up shots of Sadie's pale breasts, showing distinct purple bite marks in several places. They had been matched to Daniel's dental records. Sadie squirmed in the chair, but her attorney's face was alight with confidence as she turned back to her.

"Thank you, Sadie. I know how difficult this has been for you. No further questions." Ms. Davies made a subtle gesture with forked fingers, pointing at her own eyes before she retreated to the prosecutor's desk.

Sadie knew it was good advice, and tried valiantly to stay strong and to not look away, but Mr. Gordon was rising from his chair and smiling straight at her. She clasped and twisted her sweaty fingers in her lap, where no one would see. She was afraid to let him out of her sight.

At no point during the tale of woe that was laid out for judge and jury was Jeremiah surprised by what he heard. Notes were taken, a path laid out for a cross examination he'd practiced on a paralegal who had been trying since her third day to get into his pants, but the destination had not changed. He'd made poor, fat Martha cry, and she hadn't even been the one that was bringing charges against his client. Sadie McGinley was bleeding into shark infested waters with every word she let loose.

The questioning was finished without a word spoken between lawyer and client, Jeremiah thankful his client's proclivity for impulse apparently limited to the bedroom. Four hours a day, for two weeks, Jeremiah had stalked around Daniel as he sat in the middle of his office, firing questions and berating him, tearing him down and building him up, calling him a great man and a lousy fucking pig, sometimes in the same sentence. Nothing that any lawyer, and especially Anne Davis, was going to throw at him would come as a surprise. Outbursts were dealt with swiftly and harshly, questions given a full answer that was then drilled into him until the idea of asking seemed patently absurd. The story was told, and retold, and told again, over and over. More than once Daniel was woken late in the night by a phone call by his lawyer and made to tell him the story again, with inconsistencies attacked with rabid zeal. Jeremiah Gordon had reduced his client to a prop that would sit and show no emotion. Remorse would be fake, they both know, and there was no reason to risk the jury seeing through a bad acting job. Instead, he would appear above it, as if he knew the outcome of the case before it even started. He had been wrongly accused, and justice would prevail. Every stone taken from the wall of Sadie would be added to his, and it was only a matter of time before hers crumbled to uselessness at their feet.

By the time the direct examination had finished, two-thirds of a page of notes were written, a short list of bullet points he wanted to hit based on her testimony. Sadie was already dangling, and each passing moment he would bet that rope grew harder to hang on to. It was for this reason that he took his time, rising slowly from the hard wooden chair, buttoning his jacket carefully, and then pausing for a moment to cast his eyes down toward the notes before him. He didn't even bother reading, merely keeping his gaze pointed in that direction until the judge, at last, spoke up.

"Mr. Gordon, did you have any questions for Miss McGinley?"

"Apologies your honor," he answered as he looked up and at Sadie with a bright smile, "I just needed to review something for a moment."

More time was eaten up by using the backs of his legs to push the chair further from the table, and then he made his way from behind it. The yellow legal pad and the notes contained therein were left behind on the table, and measured, yet almost causal steps carried him towards the witness stand. And then, at last, he was in front of her.

And, not by mistake, between her and her lawyer, obscuring each from the other's view.

"Miss McGinley," he began as he leaned against the wooden frame of the witness stand, his voice low despite the amplification provided by the mic in front of her, "First let me apologize that we find it necessary to even be here today. I know this is never something that is easy for a person to go through."

It was the first step out of the starting block, and it felt like it landed just as he wanted. Sympathetic, and yet admitting nothing. Was he sorry for her? For his client? For the jurors, that had to be away from jobs and families and carry the fate of another in their hands?

"I have just a few questions, and then I'll be happy to let you rejoin my counterpart at her table."

She was given possession of nothing so far. Not her attorney, but his counterpart. Not her table, or even the prosecution's table, but her attorney's table. He wanted her in possession of only two things when he released her, a label and the blame.

"Miss Davies asked you, and please correct me if I'm wrong here, 'It wasn't what you wanted?, to which you replied, "No, and he knew it." No pause was inserted, no opportunity for correction or agreement that he had things right before he continued on, "And yet, just before that, did you not testify that you - and not he - removed your clothing, allowed him to fondle you between your legs, and then performed oral sex on him?"

The smile was gone, and whether she looked away or not, Jeremiah Gordon's eyes remained on hers the entire time. His weight shifted so that he was turned just away from the jurors, allowing him both to hide his face from them, and to indicate towards his client as he continued on.

"And, also according to your own testimony, it was you who sought out my client, you who began flirting, and you who suggested going up to the apartment that night, isn't that right Miss McGinley?"

Here a pause was given, just for an initial answer and he continued on before she could offer any further explanation, his voice slowly, gradually increasing in volume and growing more assertive in tone.

"And you told us all that you liked him, that he was someone you found attractive enough to sleep with, did you not?"

Another pause, waiting simply for the first word out of her mouth, and then his next question was rolling out.

"And then you assert here, today, under oath, that you weren't ready to sleep with him. 'Not right away' were your words, but that was a decision you made before seeing your ex-boyfriend with someone else, before you were hurt and angry and wanted to get back at him, wasn't it?"

The smile was back, and he was well into his stride. He had not moved from his spot in front of her, keeping her entirely blocked off from the eyes of her attorney as he began to hack and slash at her.

"Besides, Miss McGinley - and I remind you again that you are under oath - this isn't the first time you've found yourself in this situation, is it? Robert Kingman, the person you were dating before Todd, is prepared to testify about the times - more than one - that you would be kissing, and fondling, and then you would regret how far things had gone and you would begin crying. You remember that, don't you Miss McGinley?"

Again a short pause, a small space for her to answer, but the simple fact of the matter was that her answers were immaterial. For the jurors, he was painting a picture, and her answers were simply permission to continue. Without them, her lawyer could object that he was testifying instead of asking questions. With them, it was just a little more paint on his brush, a little more color on his canvas.

His weight shifted just slightly, turning his back a little more towards the jury, and this time it was the gallery he indicated as he spoke.

"And returning to the night in question, Miss McGinley, you claim that you said 'stop' and 'no' repeatedly, and yet... do you recognize those lovely people sitting two rows behind my client?"

She wouldn't, he knew, and still he left her space to answer that she didn't before continuing on.

"They are the fine people that are your friend's neighbors. Her downstairs neighbors. And they are both prepared to testify, under oath, that they heard you that night. Not saying 'stop', not saying 'no,' but instead disturbing their evening with your... vocal sounds of pleasure. Not once, Miss McGinley, but twice. They are both prepared to testify that they heard you the first time, commented on it to each other, and then thought it was over and you had... finished. But it wasn't over, Miss McGinley, was it? Just over an hour later, after the nap you took following the oral sex you gave my client, they heard you again. And again, they commented to each other that you were, in their words, 'at it again.' They heard no distress, no cries for help, and will be more than happy to testify that they would've called the police if they had. And they didn't hear those things because you never uttered them, did you Miss McGinley?"

The protest would come, he expected it from her, and he gave her a moment to voice it until it seemed she had said enough to answer the question before pressing on.

"But just like with your previous boyfriend, Robert Kingman, we are now left with you regretting a position you put yourself in, and crying because of it. Only this time you're crying rape, aren't you Miss McGinley? You found yourself riding that bus home, picturing Todd and his new girlfriend together and realizing he wouldn't care if you slept with my client or not, and you regretted the decision you had made to do so, didn't you?"

Whereas the amplification system strained to pick up his voice when he started, it was now wholly unnecessary as he spoke, his voice easily carrying through the large room, easily heard by all of the jurors, easily slicing through any tears she may shed for them.

"Because that was your plan all along, wasn't it Miss McGinley? Your ex-boyfriend was with another woman, having sex with another woman, and you wanted that with another man to show him you had moved on, didn't you? My client was there, and attractive, and so he became your target. And look where that got him."

That was a shot at her without a question attached, and he anticipated the objection from her lawyer even as she was jumping to her feet to voice it.

"Withdrawn, your honor." His voice had dropped again, low and leaving everyone in the courtroom utterly silent so they could hear him. "I have just one, final question for Miss McGinley. When you were getting ready to go out, the night you slept with my client, did you do any kind of extra personal grooming, or wear any special lingerie?"

Without waiting for an answer, he turned from her and made his way back to the defense table with the same slow, measured steps. The question was left hanging in the air, writhing in front of judge and jury, demanding an answer from her, and still Jeremiah thought it would not matter what she said here. Anything short of the truth, and he would use the testimony of the doctor that performed the rape kit to show her to be a liar. Giving them the truth would make her last words on the stand paint her as anything but someone not looking for sex that night.

He had led her down the path and straight to the cliff. The only question now was whether she threw herself over, or he pushed her.

He paused so long after her attorney stepped down that the judge had to prompt him, and in a moment of wild optimism, Sadie thought that maybe he wouldn't even cross-examine - maybe there was nothing left for him to ask, maybe her testimony had been so good that... Yeah. She couldn't even entertain the thought for long. There was no way he would just let her go.

She watched him while his head was bent over his notes. Reading - what had he written about her? - until the judge said his name, and he looked up and directly at her, like he knew he would catch her watching. His smile made her shudder. No, it wasn't over.

She looked away - to Ms. Davies, who met her gaze steadily with fierce confidence as Mr. Gordon approached the stand - but then, at once, Sadie was staring at the stripes of his tie - his buttoned collar - and then up, and wholly unprepared for that smile. She blinked in confusion up into his face - his face. Of course he'd guessed their little trick, and refused to let her have it.

He leaned against the box, and Sadie could feel herself shrinking away from him even as he spoke, even as he apologized - but not to her, not exactly. She nodded and mumbled her uncertain thanks, trying again to make eye contact with Anne as he spoke of her now - but she could only see a sharp elbow and the cuff of her sleeve, and her bony knuckles turning white as she gripped a pen in her fist.

Sadie swallowed and nodded again, feeling the eyes of every single member of the jury upon her instead. Seeing Daniel out of the corner of her eye - the one place she absolutely refused to look. She felt suddenly like an ant being studied with a magnifying glass. With Mr. Gordon standing over her, his intensity and the heat of him, like the sun.

"...did you not testify that you - and not he - removed your clothing, allowed him to fondle you between your legs, and then performed oral sex on him?"

Too soon, before she was ready, he was expecting her answers to - to complicated questions. He waited as she floundered, just long enough for her to get the first few words out:

"I - I - yes, but - "

Not friendly now, not kind. "And you told us all that you liked him, that he was someone you found attractive enough to sleep with, did you not?"

"Yes, but - but he knew...I said - "

He cut her off, raising his voice, drowning out all but what he wanted to hear.

"And then you assert here, today, under oath, that you weren't ready to sleep with him. 'Not right away' were your words, but that was a decision you made before seeing your ex-boyfriend with someone else, before you were hurt and angry and wanted to get back at him, wasn't it?"

"No!" she protested adamantly, automatically. "I - I mean -" She hesitated, lashes fluttering as she remembered how it had felt, seeing Todd all over a new girl just days after he'd broken it off with her. She had been hurt. And angry. She had wanted - well, something. But not -

He wasn't waiting for her though, and the next line of questioning felt like a sucker punch to the stomach when Mr. Gordon spoke a name, spoke of incidents she would have liked to forget. Who had told him about that? She felt her face grow warm as he reminded her of the times she'd burst into tears - like it was the same thing. But she was a virgin then, and -

"That was different!" she blurted in a rush of air, afraid that he would interrupt her again. But this time he paused to allow her to answer, and she stammered, trying to follow up with some explanation. "Bobby was always - always trying to - get me to - to do things..."

She trailed off, trying desperately to see past him. She needed some cue from Anne, something to let her know if she should be saying this. But he kept himself deliberately positioned, even as he turned to direct her attention to the couple in the gallery. Sadie was sweating, and so bewildered as she looked at the two faces, trying to recall if she'd ever seen them before in her life. She shook her head, murmuring her answer warily, and caught an unwelcome glimpse of Daniel. His face remained neutral, expressionless - but his eyes glittered like two soulless black diamonds, witnessing this slow crucifixion.

As it happened, the red was a bad choice. As Mr. Gordon revealed the identities of the man and woman, and what they'd heard that night, Sadie felt the hot blood rising in her face, rivalling the color of her pretty sundress in stark contrast to her pale skin. She leaned over on her elbows and buried her face in her hands and her low moan, though muffled, carried almost directly into the mic. Her eyes glassed with stinging tears of humiliation as she peeked up at the women of the jury - not so sympathetic-looking, anymore. Some of them wouldn't look at her at all.

He'd never let her explain. "I just wanted him out of me!" she wailed. "I thought - if I - I made noises...he'd - finish - "

He was speaking again, and she sputtered, "Please - " but he went on without pause, speaking over her, ignoring her, not listening, telling the jurors that it was like all those times with Bobby - but worse.

"No!" Two tears dripped and ran down her flushed cheeks. "I mean - I did regret it - but I..." She stopped to wipe her nose with the back of her hand, and tried again. "But he knew -"

She looked back at Daniel. She wasn't wrong. There would be something - something in his eyes, like there had been that night. Mr. Gordon took advantage of her hesitation to plow forward with his accusations: that she was a vengeful bitch, a woman scorned - worse - that she had turned on every man unfortunate enough to make her acquaintance - and through it, even through her prosecutor's heated objections, Daniel's return gaze spoke nothing but placid innocence. Stoic. Victim. Martyr.

We've lost, she thought suddenly. We're not going to win this. She blinked up at Mr. Gordon in stunned disbelief - and yes, in his eyes she saw it, that hard gleam. He knows what happened. He doesn't care.

He knew, too, that it was over. His tone dropped to normal, conversational decibels as he posed his final question, and Sadie raised her hands - to cover her eyes this time, as she heard him turn away and walk back to his table. He didn't need this. He'd won - the court didn't need to hear this. But he would have it entered as testimony. He would make her say it. As the final nail in the coffin, her final humiliation.

She couldn't deny it - there were pictures. She thought she might spare herself and simply answer: "Yes," but knew that if she didn't describe the preparations, Mr. Gordon would. And he had a way of twisting things, making everything she said sound...horrible.

Her voice wavered as she took her hands away and spoke quietly into the mic. Turning her red-rimmed eyes with their matted lashes to stare at his turned back for several seconds before it occurred to her that he wasn't standing between Sadie and her lawyer anymore. But she couldn't look at Ms. Davies while she admitted this.

"I - shaved my pubic hair, and I was wearing a - a thong with lace," she answered haltingly.

Mortifying, to confess it to the judge and jury and everyone present. But even worse, somehow, to know that Jeremiah Gordon had known the answer before he asked - and probably knew, too, that the thong in question was quite similar in shade to the dress she was wearing today.

And all for nothing. She looked to Anne finally, and saw it in her eyes - it was over.

The chair creaked in the silent courtroom as Jeremiah lowered himself into it, and he let it be the only sound in the courtroom for a moment. It took a fine touch, measuring the latitude a judge would give someone before asking if he had any more questions, and Jeremiah had built his career on knowing when just right began to turn into too much.

"No further questions, your honor."

His eyes slid, a smooth lateral move to where she sat on the stand, tear-streaked cheeks and shoulders slumped in defeat.

"The witness is excused."

He looked away from her then. As much as he might wish to revel in her demise, to bask in the glory of her defeat, the case was not over yet and he would not allow something as simply as a moment of pride in his work to derail things. The drink he would have in his office later, though, recalling the way she crumbled in front of him as he sipped slowly... that would be his moment.

To Anne Davies' credit, she continued on with her case as if it had not just run over a land mine, calling the doctor who had performed the rape kit next. When she finished with her testimony, Jeremiah's questions for her were few and simple.

Is it true that Miss McGinley had no pubic hair when you examined her?

Is it true that her physical condition upon examination could also be consistent with rougher, but consensual sex?

Is there anything in your examination that points to rape as the only possible explanation?

All answers were as he expected them to be - you never asked a question you didn't already know the answer to unless it was a last-ditch effort in a case that was all but lost - and he thanked the doctor for her testimony and dismissed her after only a few minutes.

The prosecution rested soon after, and attention shifted to the defense. Rising from his seat, Jeremiah Gordon announced that they would not be calling any witnesses, including the pair that he claimed had overheard them that night, and the defense rested. It was an unusual move, but a calculated risk that would be explained in his closing arguments. They followed quickly, and as the prosecution spoke, Jeremiah wrote a series of notes on the yellow legal pad before him. Mostly, though, he watched the jury. People rarely realized how much of their thoughts they gave away, not only in the expression on their face, but in the way they sat, where their arms were in relation to the rest of their body, and even in their breathing. Anne Davies, bless her heart, she tried as best she could, but it seemed quite obvious that the jury was not buying what she was selling.

When she thanked the jury and sat, Jeremiah rose from his chair and paused a moment to button his jacket. Another was used glancing down at his notes, and then he looked up at the jury from behind the defense table, and smiled at them.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," he began, at last moving out from behind the table and approaching the jury box, "Let me first begin by thanking you for coming today. I know jury duty isn't something anyone looks forward to, but I can tell that you have done your civil duty well, paid attention to the evidence that was presented, and after the judge gives you your instructions, you will deliberate and reach a fair, and reasonable conclusion based on that evidence.

"We can all agree this is a tragic case, I think. There are no winners and losers here, just lives disrupted unnecessarily, innocents made into victims, and lies used to hurt another person."

He paused here, and moved to stand a short distance from the prosecution's table.

"Young Sadie here," he said, indicating the girl with a gesture of his hand as his eyes shifted to her, and when he continued it was her he looked at, "Would have you believe that my client went out with her, a girl he liked and found to be quite attractive, and a girl he was hoping to see again, and after things had gone so well that she agreed to go back to the apartment with him, kiss him, undress with him, and perform oral sex on him, he decided to ruin his chances of seeing her again by raping her."

He shook his head, at her, at this obviously ridiculous notion, at the fact that any of them were there to begin with, and then turned his eyes back to the jury.

"She would also have you believe, ladies and gentlemen, that she did not want to sleep with this man she found attractive, despite going to that apartment with him, despite taking off her clothes, despite performing oral sex on him, and despite her own admission that she shaved her pubic hair and wore special lingerie that night. She would have you believe that our being here today has nothing to do with a young girl that has a history of sleeping with men and then regretting that decision later. A young girl that saw her ex-boyfriend with another woman and wanted to get back at him, and decided to use a guy that found her attractive to do it with.

"Miss McGinley is only 19. I think all of us here today can remember what it was like to be that age, and still learning about the ways the world works. I understand that, my client understands that, and I think all of you do as well. My client has no desire to see her punished for her false allegation, or to see this whole tragic episode dragged out any longer than it has to be. She is a young girl, no doubt with a bright future ahead of her. Not only will we do her a disservice today if we tell her she is a victim and let her hide her actions behind that label, but we insult the actual victims of rape that have stood in this court room and demanded justice for what happened to them if we tell young Miss McGinley that she can later regret something she did and be counted among them.

"I know, as you look at the transcript of her testimony here today, of the facts she admitted to while on the stand, that you will reach the only outcome the evidence will allow. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen."

With a final nod of thanks to those assembled in the box, he turned away - his eyes settling for the briefest of moments on Sadie next to her lawyer - and made his way back to the defense table. Once seated, the judge turned to the jury and gave them their instructions, and everyone watched as they filed through the door for the short walk to the room where their deliberations would happen. Court was adjourned shortly after, with instructions to both parties to remain close by, as the judge was hopeful a decision would be reached soon, and the case would be ended today.

Turning to his client, Jeremiah leaned close before speaking.

"Keep your eyes on me. Let them leave first, and then we'll step out. Don't acknowledge her, don't give her lawyer a chance to go after you. Until they come back with a verdict, you stay by my side. Understand?"

Daniel gave a quick nod, more than happy to do anything his lawyer instructed after the way things had gone for him thus far, and then the two involved themselves in idle and pointless chatter until the two women had exited the courtroom. Jeremiah's office was within walking distance of the courthouse, and so the two men retired there to await word that the jury had reached a decision. In what Jeremiah took as a good sign, the call came less than two hours later.

Almost exactly two hours after they'd been dismissed, everyone was assembled back in the courtroom for the reading of the verdict. When the time came, Jeremiah stood with his client, and both men held their breath as the verdict was read.

"On the count of rape in the second degree, we, the jury, find the defendant, Daniel Morris, not guilty."

Everyone exhaled collectively, some in relief, others as if they'd just been punched in the gut, and at the defense table the two men exchanged a firm, enthusiastic hand shake. The judge quickly thanked the jury for their service, and then informed the defendant that he was free to go. Another handshake was exchanged between the men - not the last thing that would be, Jeremiah had a hefty sum of money headed his way for this case as well - and they parted ways as Daniel went into the open and happy arms of his family.

Jeremiah took his time collecting up the various papers on the table before them and slipping them into his briefcase, and then flipping the latches closed after he folded it shut. The briefcase was lifted by the handle, and he stepped across the isle to where Anne was attempting to console her client.

"Always nice to see you, Anne," he said simply, with a nod of his head, before his eyes shifted to the woman next to her.

"Sadie," he said, smiling as he looked at the girl. "I hope to see you again some day. Good luck with everything."

His eyes shifted back to the other lawyer, and he nodded to her once more before he stepped away from the table and made his way from the courtroom. A short exchange of pleasantries and congratulations followed once he was outside, though he politely declined Daniel's family's offer to come celebrate with them, choosing instead the quiet of his office and the expensive burn of scotch in his throat. Leaving them with handshakes all around, he made his way into the fading sunlight, and strolled casually back to his office. Triumphant.

Sadie stumbled back to the prosecutor's table, sank into her seat, and put her head down on her folded arms. Anne hissed at her through barely parted lips: "Sit up. It's not over yet."

She sat through the doctor's testimony in a bit of a daze, hearing nothing helpful. There was not much evidence of a violent assault, and no sign of a struggle - there hadn't been one. Ms. Davies tried valiantly, but then Mr. Gordon stepped up to cross-examine, and his first question made Sadie wince, like acid thrown in her face. Every answer he received seemed only to support his terrible version of events, and every word was true.

Anne rested for the prosecution, and Sadie stiffened in her chair as the judge turned his attention to Mr. Gordon. She didn't want to sit through whatever sordid tale they had, between the two of them, twisted the facts up in. Anne's voice murmured grimly across the table: "We've got this. Let him dig his own grave. I'm going to nail his balls to the wall."

Sadie peeked at Daniel for the first time since Mr. Gordon had finished with her. If Ms. Davies could grill him, tear into his testimony as Mr. Gordon had done to her - if she could make him feel the way Sadie was feeling now -

The defense rested. They would call no witnesses. Daniel would not testify.

Sadie blinked at Anne in shock as her attorney cursed under her breath, visibly rattled, shuffling papers to find her closing arguments.

"Why would he do that? Doesn't - doesn't he have to call Daniel? It's his defense - doesn't he have to...defend himself?"

Ms. Davies was standing. Sadie grabbed her arm, looking up at her in horror. "Can't - can't you call him up there? He doesn't have to testify at all?"

Anne's face was determined, but there was a wild look about her eyes that Sadie had never seen before as she left the table and approached the jury box.

Sadie leaned forward on her elbows with her head in her hands and listened as Ms. Davies plowed doggedly through her closing arguments, trying to turn the defense's choice to call no witnesses against them. Mr. Gordon had never once contested certain facts: that Sadie McGinley had set clear boundaries, had said "no" multiple times to penetration, and had been reduced to tears for the duration of the assault. It was not even a case of "he said/she said", as Daniel Morris had not bothered to recount a different recollection of the events of the night in question. The jury had only Sadie's testimony to consider (did her voice waver slightly here, or was it Sadie's over-wrought imagination?), and for all of Mr. Gordon's vile, typical attempts to smear the victim's character, the facts remained undisputed. Sadie McGinley had said "no" to intercourse. Daniel Morris had forced intercourse upon her. He had not taken the stand to deny it, because it was fact. The jury must find him guilty.

Ms. Davies returned to her seat at the table next to her. Sadie could see wisps of hair escaping at the base of the other woman's neck as her tight bun began to unravel, and noting the light sheen on her lawyer's forehead, she realized that Anne was sweating.

Sadie tried not to listen to Mr. Gordon's closing statements - it would be more of the same, she was sure. She felt numb, but was unpleasantly surprised to find that his digs - and there were so many of them - could still hurt her. It felt very much like enduring the necessary indignities of the rape kit: still raw from the assault - in shock, but uniquely vulnerable - keenly aware of every little humiliation, every little bruise poked in passing.

When he spoke of his client's compassion, implying that it was Daniel's benevolent choice not to testify and draw this out any longer, Sadie dropped her head into her arms on the table. Not even a swift kick from Ms. Davies could persuade her to lift it again. He was twisting it all around, and he sounded so sure that Sadie found herself - incredibly - beginning to doubt, beginning to wonder if perhaps...she had it wrong. When he said that she was insulting actual rape victims by being here, her face burned against her bare arms - her ears ached with it. He was so convincing, and it was her ingrained tendency to defer to the judgement of an older man. It was tempting. She made mistakes all the time.

Except that she was here. What woman would go this far, for attention? She lifted her head to glare at his back as he spoke to the jury. What woman in her right mind would choose to endure this tearing open of fresh wounds, the public exposure, the scathing accusations, the excruciating intimate details...why would she be here, if she didn't truly believe - know - she'd been violated?

He glanced at her once as he returned to the table with Daniel, and seemed thoroughly unsurprised and unperterbed by the hateful expression on her face. The judge sent the jury off to their deliberations and excused the rest of them. Sadie rose when Anne did, and glowered at the defense table, just waiting for one of them to look up. Neither of them did, and finally Ms. Davies nudged her into the aisle. Sadie kept her chin up as she passed those still assembled in the courtroom, trying for an appearance of maligned dignity - but felt the shame like bruises on her face.

Anne's office was across town, so she had taken a hotel room a few blocks down, where they could await the verdict together. She insisted that Sadie lie down, as these things could take forever - but it really seemed that no sooner had she put her head down on the pillow and closed her eyes than the phone was ringing. Ms. Davies answered it with a tightening of her lips. Sadie sat up slowly, smoothing her dress as she waited.

"What is it?" she asked, as she watched her lawyer hang up the phone.

"The jury's back," Anne replied quietly, moving about the room to collect her things.

Sadie attempted a smile. "Wow - that was fast." Ms. Davies wasn't smiling, wasn't looking at her, and she continued uneasily, "So, what does that mean?"

Anne cleared her throat. "It means...there wasn't much they weren't in agreement on." She stopped at the mirror to sweep her hair back into a tight bun, focusing on her own reflection and not Sadie's anxious face.

"So, what does that mean, then?" Sadie repeated hesitantly. "Guilty...do you think?"

Anne's smile was fixed, reassuring, and unconcerned as she turned her head. "I never try to predict the verdict, anymore," she answered lightly. "Any time I've guessed out loud to a client, I've been wrong."

She gestured to Sadie that it was time to go, and the girl followed her out, feeling anything but reassured.

As they reentered the courtroom, Sadie deliberately kept her eyes away from Daniel and Mr. Gordon, and focused instead on the members of the jury as they marched back into their box.

He was wrong - you know he was wrong...don't you? What he did was wrong. You wouldn't - you wouldn't let him get away with that...would you? Her knees were shaking as they stood and the judge instructed the foreperson to read the verdict.

It didn't register, at first. At first, she could barely hear the person's voice...and then it seemed they were just sounds - it could have been any language. As words finally, they still didn't make sense as they were strung together. She knew, through her peaking anxiety, that she was really only listening for the last one.

Only, it was two. Not guilty.

A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she sat down hard in her chair as the courtroom buzzed with the reaction. Sadie covered her face with her hands. Not guilty. She had thought that if she could just muster the courage to face him at trial, to endure the scrutiny of her own character and her own actions, that good would prevail - that justice would be served... He hadn't even taken the stand to say it didn't happen exactly as she'd said. Everyone knew now that she'd shaved her pubic hair, and - for what? He was not guilty. He could leave the courtroom right now and go out and do it again. They knew about her panties. They believed the things Mr. Gordon had said about her. They hadn't needed to hear Daniel's side at all. They hadn't needed two hours to agree that what he'd done to her wasn't rape.

She didn't notice when she'd begun to sob, but now she couldn't stop - her face hot and wet, streaming tears under her hands. Ms. Davies put her hand on her shaking shoulder, and Sadie could hear her murmuring, "Don't, Sadie. Don't give him this, too."

She could hear footsteps after the rest of the crowd had faded out, and then his voice - his voice - speaking to her attorney. Sadie looked up in utter disbelief, her eyes red and puffy, cheeks wet and streaked from crying, and stared into his smiling face.

At his words she felt a kick of nausea that went hard at once in a lump in the pit of her stomach. She leapt out of the chair at him, feeling Anne pull her back as she shrieked, "What's wrong with you? What's wrong with you!?"

Anne was easing her back into the chair as Mr. Gordon continued to smile and turned away to walk out, and Sadie shrugged her off violently.

"So, it was all for nothing. He gets to make me feel like shit - everyone thinks I'm a whore - and Daniel walks away, knowing he can get away with rape."

Ms. Davies leaned on both hands against the table. "You can't take it personally. Jeremiah Gordon gets paid a lot of money to do exactly what he did, up there -"

"Yeah?" Turning her furious, red-rimmed glare on her attorney. "How much more should I have paid you?"

Anne stiffened and took a step back, but her voice remained calm. "Sadie. I know how you're feeling right now, but you have to understand - this case wasn't exactly cut-and-dry."

"You said you were the best!" Sadie spat angrily. "You said we would get him!"

Anne nodded, and met her client's fierce eyes evenly. "But there were details that came out in the cross-examination that I wasn't aware of."

Sadie felt herself blushing and dropped her gaze as Anne continued, "Now that I have that information, we can appeal -"

"I am never doing this again," Sadie interrupted tonelessly.

Ms. Davies sighed, closing up her briefcase with a snap and lifting it off the table.

"Go home," she said gently. "Get some sleep. Call me next week, and let's talk about it, okay?"

Sadie just shook her head. After a moment, Anne patted her shoulder and walked out.

*

She went - not home, but to a bar across the street. Sat in a dark corner in the back where she could cry her eyes out and not be bothered. Ordered a drink, and then another before she realized that she didn't want to drink herself sick - she could do that at home.

She pulled out her phone instead, and looked up an address. Left the second drink barely touched on the table and marched out. It wasn't far.

The woman behind the front desk looked up, taking in her desheveled appearance at a glance, and her pleasant expression turned cool, her voice crisp: "Yes? May I help you with something?"

Sullen and bleary-eyed, Sadie turned her head to mutter at the woman, "I'm here to see Mr. Gordon."

The receptionist's tone remained genial but very firm. "I'm sorry, but we're just closing for the day, and Mr. Gordon is - miss! Excuse me, miss!"

Hurrying around the corner of the desk as Sadie strode purposefully across the room, catching the girl's elbow in a pinching grip just as her hand reached for his closed door. Breathlessly: "You can't go in there! We are closed for the day. If you'd like to call for an appointment - "

Sadie eased her arm out of the woman's grasp and pressed her lips together, tasting tears. "You tell him it's Sadie McGinley," she said quietly, smoothing her skirt as she perched on the edge of the nearest chair. "I bet he'll see me."

The sun was sinking quickly, it seemed, though the rising content of alcohol in his blood may have something to do with the increased passage of time. Daniel Morris was not a rich man, but his father certainly was. Had he not been, Mr. Morris would've been a person Jeremiah passed on the front steps of the courthouse without a second thought. Instead, he was the guilty as fuck dumbass that had just dropped a significant chunk of change into Jeremiah's bank account, including a nice little, under-the-table bonus from his father. Both of them knew the idiot was guilty, but only one of them expected him to never see the inside of a jail for his crime. The man was so surprised that he had stopped by Jeremiah's office not long after the lawyer himself arrived there to hand deliver cash, and a heartfelt, if not somewhat ashamed, thanks. Whatever the man's father had planned for him, being Daniel Morris for the foreseeable future was not an enviable position.

As darkness crept over the city now, the office outside his door was growing quiet with more and more people fleeing to visit their neglected families before returning to their slave quarters for another long shift tomorrow. The fact that it was Saturday, for most of them, didn't even register. Another day, another dollar to be billed. Jeremiah, a senior partner and one of the stars of the firm, had yet to decide if he would return tomorrow. When you brought in as much as he did, no one was going to say anything if he took a day off occasionally. Each drop of liquor that passed over his tongue made the idea more and more tempting.

Tie loosened, jacket off, he sipped the amber liquid in his glass lazily and leaned back in the leather office chair. His eyes fell closed after another sip, and he let his mind wander while the alcohol swam through him. Not to the trial, no. Not to Anne Davies, either, though there had been a time or two his mind had wandered to her. Oh, the hate fuck he could give that angry little bitch. He'd make her crawl for him, beg for him... show her that he could beat her anywhere he wanted. But no. She'd keep for later. Tonight, his thoughts wandered to the woman whose day, week, month, perhaps life he'd successfully ruined tonight. Young Sadie McGinley. Still just a teenager, all freshed faced youth and red curles. But a legal one, wasn't she?

He'd wanted to press Daniel for details after he'd seen her - ask if her lips were as clumsy around his cock as he thought they would be, if she was as tight as he imagined she must be, if her tears made him harder the way the idea of them had for Jeremiah - but he didn't. Couldn't. The last thing that dumb fuck could be given was permission to fantasize about the little slut. He had to be innocent, seen as the actual victim in it all, and so that had to be drilled into his thick head, morning, noon, and night. But now, he could relax. Now he could let his mind wander.

Now... oh, Sadie.

The glass touched his lips, the cool liquid passing over them as he took another sip, but in his mind it was her lips, stretched round, her awkward and irritating attempt to suck him off amusing him more than it aroused him... but she'd learn. He'd teach her. His would not be mistaken for a gentle hand, force would not be mistaken for guidance, but when 19 turned to 20, Miss Sadie McGinley would be a good and proper little sl-

A commotion in the outer office pulled him out of his thoughts, and he scowled at the door, irritated at having been interrupted. His door was locked, it was the first thing he'd done after Daniel's father left, and so he expected no one to come bursting through it, but much like when a person stares at the radio despite the sound coming from the speakers, he stared at the door nonetheless until his intercom buzzed.

"What?" he said sharply after thumbing the button.

"Mr. Gordon, there's a, um..." the girl began, and the nerves were evident in her voice. Not for the first time, Gordon wondered if she might be out there with a gun held on her, a disgruntled lawyer that had been chewed up and spit out by the firm returned to extract his revenge in bullets and blood.

"...a girl to see you, sir."

No gunman, then, and he blinked in surprise at this, utterly confused as to why a girl's unexpected arrival would so unnerve his insufferable secretary. As if on cue, she answered his question before he could ask it.

"She said her name is Sadie McGinley, sir. I told her we were closed and-"

"Send her in, Mary. And then go home."

"Are you sure, sir, I could-"

"Goodnight, Mary."

"Yes, sir. Goodnight, Mr. Gordon."

The intercom connection was severed, and he sat back in his chair and laughed out loud. It felt nearly like he'd conjured the girl out of thin air, though he did wonder if she was carrying a gun in her purse and had come to beat the washed up assholes to it. But everyone had to die sometime, didn't they?

Rising from his chair, he moved around his desk and twisted the lock in the door, then lifted his empty glass off the desk and carried it to the small liquor cart in the corner. The twin of the glass he'd been drinking from was flipped right side up, and each was filled with a third of scotch, the drinks sloshing and swirling as he lifted he glass and turned back towards the door. A smile found his face easily, though the light in his eyes was something less than pleasant and kind, and as he heard the girl approaching his office, he moved to lean against the front of his desk. With drinks in hand, he wanted to greet the one and only Sadie McGinley.

She watched as the receptionist returned to her desk - sure she was only going to call security to have Sadie escorted off the premises - and was surprised when the woman punched a button on her phone, and the buzz of the intercom filtered through his closed door.

After a moment: "What?"

He sounded annoyed, impatient. His tone sent a chill through her veins even as his assistant snatched up the phone to speak to him privately. The instinctive fear Sadie felt just made her angrier, and she turned to glare at his office door, expecting him to sweep it open any minute.

She heard the receptionist say her name, babbling apologetically, and then stop. Listening. She protested briefly, then fell silent again, nodding as she glanced up at Sadie.

"Yes, sir. Goodnight, Mr. Gordon."

She put the phone down quietly, pressing her lips together over whatever else she might like to say, and fixed Sadie with a cool gaze.

"He says he'll see you. I will remind you that Mr. Gordon is a very busy man, and that it is after business hours."

She was switching her computer off and opened a drawer to retrieve her purse. "In addition, I will remind you that there is a police station just one block away. We have them on speed dial on all office extensions."

The metallic click of a bolt being retracted from the lock interrupted her speech, and the two women looked at his closed door expectantly. He would - he would step out any second now to accost her, Sadie was sure - maybe to throw her out, himself. She clenched her jaw and watched the door handle for the slightest twitch.

Nothing. The two of them stared in silence for an absurdly long moment. Finally, the receptionist shouldered her bag and huffed around the corner of her desk, trading her heels for a pair of running shoes.

"There is also a closed-circuit camera over the front entrance," she continued rather doggedly, pointing for Sadie's benefit, narrowing her eyes at the girl. "Your visit here has already been documented."

The woman paused in front of the door, looking again like she'd like to say more, but she only drew a jangling set of keys out of her purse as she pulled the door open.

"You'll have to ask him to let you out," she muttered in parting, and glowered once more at Sadie as she closed the glass door between them and turned her key savagely in the lock.

Sadie watched her walk away, and was left staring at his name in mirror-writing on the inside of the glass. He would have heard his assistant go out. She waited, but still he didn't emerge. Of course, she thought after a moment, he'd make her come to him. He would have guessed why she was here. If she wanted a confrontation, he wouldn't make it any easier for her.

She walked to the door and then hesitated, trying to rouse the fire that had driven her here. He had humiliated her - dragged out excruciating details on purpose, just to humiliate her and discredit her. He had twisted most of the facts and ignored the rest, until he had a story that pleased him. He'd made her out to be a flighty, shallow, spiteful slut, and he'd made everyone believe it. And then, after everything...that smile. Good luck with everything. Yes, that was really what'd had her seething.

Still, her hand trembled slightly as she jerked the handle and flung the door open.

And he was there - closer than she expected, on the wrong side of his desk - to meet her fierce eyes with a calm smile, and a drink. As if he suspected that she might need one. Sadie's scowl deepened with her uncertainty as she crossed the threshold. She didn't want to accept anything from him. It wasn't how this was supposed to go. But she wanted the drink. The watered-down cocktail she'd had at the bar was long gone, and she could use a little liquid courage. The truth was, now that she was here, she wasn't sure what she wanted to say to him - or whether it was a good idea to be here.

Her panties. She strode across the room to him. He knew about the panties she'd worn on the night Daniel raped her, and he'd made sure everyone else knew about them, too. She swiped one of the tumblers from his hand with a careless slosh. Took a step back and brought the glass to her lips, holding her other arm across her waist. Breathed in the band-aid smell of the scotch as she just rested the cool rim against her lower lip, not taking her eyes off him. She could almost feel grateful for this small kindness, could almost allow that icy something inside her to thaw slightly. Maybe, outside of the courtroom, now that he'd been paid and the job was done - maybe he wasn't -

Wait.

He'd poured himself a drink, too. She blinked belatedly at it over the rim of her glass. Were they - drinking together, then? Raising a glass? Not - celebrating? Not...toasting his success? Sadie swallowed without tasting, hearing the roar of her pulse in her ears even as she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. If he hadn't met her with a smile, she wouldn't believe it - if he wasn't smiling as he watched her now...

She stepped up again and threw the drink in his face, gasping at her own outrage, letting the glass thump and roll on the floor. Nodding at him with wild eyes, feeling her hands shaking again, this time in fury.

"You. You know - you know what he did." Her voice was barely more than a whisper. She had to stop and remember to breathe.

"I just want to hear you say it." Clenching her hands into fists at her sides. Not sure if it was the truth.

Neither of them had changed since their encounter in court, though his jacket was off and his tie had been pulled down, top button opened to expose his throat, allow him to breathe. He'd never liked having things sit on his throat like that, but it was a necessary evil of the job. The distance between them was short, a handful of feet at most, and instead of a greeting, a question about her presence here, a demand she turn around and leave, he held out one of the two glasses to her. A drink offered and, a bit clumsily, a bit uncertainly, accepted. He watched, a sip taken from his own glass, as the rim was lifted to her red lips, and his mind flashed quickly, an alcohol-fueled replaying of the lurid details of the blowjob they'd given his client. Not his fumbled, innocence-protesting telling of it. Instead, in that silent moment as they stared at each other, he remembered it in her voice. It was a false memory, created by a whirling combination of alcohol and fantasy, the most she'd said in court on the matter was a stammering "yes," but no matter. It was her voice now that he heard. And he smiled at the thought.

Later, he would reflect that it was pure instinct that kept alcohol out of his eyes, his brain somewhere registering the swing of her arm and clamping down his eyelids in some small fraction of a second before the liquid hit. Her voice then, and he half expected her to slap him, his eyes still closed as he awaited it. Instead, she just whispered again, but the words were quite clear in his ears with only his heartbeat for competition. His empty hand swiped down the length of his face, wiping away most of the amber liquor, and only then did he open his eyes and meet hers, closer than before he'd last seen her.

Her eyes were wide, crazy he could've called them, but he was calm in the face of her fury, the pair of them a perfect picture of contrast. Extending his arm, his own glass was set to the corner of the desk he leaned on, and he lowered his hands to the legs of his pants, drying them there. Every movement was slow, deliberate in his pace, his patience seemingly without end. He doubted hers would be the same. More than that, though, he doubted her fury would carry on for long before that same self-doubt he saw inside her on the stand, and at her table afterward, and then again when she'd first walked in and saw him waiting for her, made it's way back into her head. She was a girl who stammered and blushed and was unsure of herself perhaps more often than not. She was a girl that found herself blowing a guy, and then professed outrage when he raped her later. Some might call it innocence. He mostly thought her young, and stupid, and easily taken advantage of.

"Do you know how they piece together a crime scene, Sadie?" he began at last, his voice low and even, but the tone unmistakably professorial. The learned man educating the poor, dumb girl on the ways of the world.

"They're not here now, obviously, so they have to look at the evidence and from that try to figure out what happened. All those drops of alcohol behind me, for example, will leave a residue on the desk and chair and probably even on the wall that they can use to see that you threw the drink at me.

"The only glass with your fingerprints on it there on the floor," he continued, a wave of the hand indicating the glass that had tumbled to the floor near their feet, before moving to point to his glass set on the desk, "While the one with only my fingerprints sits on the edge of the desk, with some liquid still left in it."

He straighted up off the edge of the desk then, standing to his full height above her. A single step carried him closer to her, the distance nearly swallowed up that one could touch the other with virtually no effort at all.

"And then there are the phone records they could pull, from both my office and my cell phone," he continued, looking down at her now, "Showing that I didn't call you, and so it was wholly your decision to come to my office tonight. Plus, there is the security video, showing you both enter the building, and enter my office, despite the protests of my secretary.

"Speaking of my secretary, there will be her testimony that she told you I was not seeing anyone now, but that you could return during office hours, and your wild-eyed insistence that you see me now.

"Oh, I know," he said, his voice shifting to a tone of mock sympathy, "You think that your fellow sister will have your back, see what a poor victimized girl you are and take pity on you, but Sadie, I'm afraid that won't pay her bills. She rather enjoys her nice car and her nice house and her ability to put a little aside for the future, and lying about her boss would put an end to all of that, wouldn't it?"

The question was rhetorical, and instead of waiting for an answer he stepped forward as if walking through her. His hands found the fabric of her dress where it flared out at her hips, and he pushed her back until her body met the solid plane of the door behind her. He stayed very close, hands still on her hips, his breath accented with alcohol as he pressed on, his voice lower. A secret shared between them now.

"And they'll have all those witnesses, judge and jury and your own lawyer, that saw you be exposed for falsely accusing someone of raping you. And now here you are, assaulting the attorney that did the exposing. Oh, dear Sadie, things would not go very well for you at all if the police showed up here, would it?"

He clicked his tongue and shook his head slowly, sadly.

"But that's what they'll think as they cuff you and put you in the back of their car. We, though. We know why you're here, don't we Sadie? You thought you'd march up here and empower yourself, didn't you? You thought you'd walk through that door and say your peace, exorcise your demons and walk out with your head held high. Take control of the situation, right Sadie?

"Or-"

He moved back a quarter step, his hands leaving her hips, and his index finger lifted to touch between her breasts, his head tilted slightly as he considered her.

"Maybe you really are just here because you want to hear me say what he did. Which I'm more than happy to do for you, Sadie. Normally I wouldn't, but... just for you."

Bending at the waist, he leaned close to her and whispered.

"He gave you what you secretly wanted, but couldn't bring yourself to ask for."

He straightened again as soon as the words were out, his finger leaving her and both hands held up, palms out towards her.

"I know, Saide, I know how outraged you want to be. But it's just us here, so let's be entirely honest with each other, shall we?"

The hands were dropped, and then Jeremiah's index finger returned to press between her breasts.

"I know you've thought about it, somewhere in that fucked up mess of a head you've got. Hell, maybe you've been getting yourself off to the thought regularly," he said, with a glance down her body, "But the problem is the stupid fuck that you let talk his way into your panties, isn't it Sadie? You probably knew when you were blowing his limp dick that he wasn't going to be able to really give you what you wanted, and that's what you're really upset about, isn't it?

"You're not upset that he 'raped' you," he said with a quick roll of the eyes, as if it was ridiculous to even use the word, "You're upset that he didn't do it good enough for you."

His finger fell away, and he took a step back, then turned away from her. Walking to the desk, his fingers worked to loosen the knot in his tie further as he continued on, his tone entirely dismissive.

"Get the fuck out of my office, Sadie. You're not worth the cum I'd spill raping you."

Standing in front of his desk, in nearly the same spot he was when she first came in, he turned back to face her, the silk length of his tie now simply hanging out of both sides of his starched collar.

"You're a stupid, boring girl who can't handle the things that make her cunt wet," he said with a back-handed wave towards that very part of her anatomy, "And who probably couldn't even make me hard if her life depended on it. Go shake in your pathetic rage somewhere else, girl."

Falling silent, his hands slipped into his pockets and he leaned back against the desk again, and he watched her. And waited.

She was holding her breath. Waiting for - something. An explosion: for him to bark obscenities in her face, smack her, grab her and throw her out, grab her and...something. She held her breath and waited - any second now. It was an insult that must be answered - she could hardly believe her gall - did anyone actually throw drinks, anymore? As she watched, he only raised a hand to wipe his face, opening his eyes to look back at her placidly, and Sadie felt the trembling in her limbs become more violent as she struggled to hold his gaze. Livid. She was.

Any second now.

She stiffened, nostrils flaring on an alarmed intake of breath as he leaned forward slightly to reach across the desk - but it was only to set his glass down, having had his fill of scotch for the moment. He wiped his hands on the pant legs of his expensive suit, the kind only a lawyer can buy, and she thought he must be - must be fuming inside, must be just as irate as she still was - she was. But he presented the very picture of unruffled calm, serenity, civility. He seemed to be waiting, too. At least he had stopped smiling.

"Do you know how they piece together a crime scene, Sadie?"

She blinked at him. His first words to her were so unexpected - she didn't understand the question - was he talking about her night with Daniel? It would be so like him, she thought, making tight fists with her hands, to remind her again - now - of the findings of the rape kit.

But as he continued speaking, she felt her face grow cold as she realized he was speaking of evidence the police would find in this office, after tonight. Piecing together...this scene. He was calling it a crime scene. She swallowed hard as he took a step closer to her and she lowered her gaze as he described all the little details - the phone records, the video, the secretary who wouldn't lie about her boss - all of it serving to prove that Sadie had come here looking to instigate something. That she was asking for it. She was beginning to sweat. What was he going to do to her? She focused on the empty tumbler laying on its side on the carpet - all for one reckless, impulsive moment - what was she doing here?

Wait...what?

Mary - he had called her Mary - wouldn't...lie about her boss? What -

He moved in even closer, he was right up in her face and forcing her back against the closed door, and the smell of scotch on him made her eyes water, and to her horror she felt his hands on her hips, positioning her - ohgod! She gasped for breath and tried to bring her arms up to keep him back - here she was, with her pathetic attempt to assault him, and it wouldn't go well for her, if the police came.

The click of his tongue made her whine through closed lips. She couldn't look at him. What was he going to -

Wait.

When they...cuffed her, and took her away? Her eyelids fluttered and she lifted her chin to stare at him, bewildered, as he kept talking. He meant when they arrested her...for her assault of him, for her crime, not his. She was so confused!

He stepped away, took his hands off her, and she could breathe and then his accusatory finger was prodding her between the breasts.

"Maybe you want to hear me say what he did."

Did she want that? His finger burned like a hot poker. She couldn't remember what she wanted.

Sadie turned, resting one cheek against the door as he leaned in close, turning her naked ear to him and averting her eyes from his intense stare, his whiskey breath in her face.

"He gave you what you secretly wanted - "

Her head whipped around before he could finish to glare at him, horrified, as he stepped back, raising his hands as if he knew her first instinct would be to lash out at him. She panted at him, holding herself in check, remembering that he said he would call the police if she -

"...let's be entirely honest with each other, shall we?"

It made her uneasy. She pressed her lips together, biting back a protest and glancing over her shoulder as she pressed back into the closed door. She didn't come here for another dose of his brand of honesty. Then his finger jabbed into her breastbone again, pinning her like a twitching butterfly.

"I know you've thought about it, somewhere in that fucked up mess of a head you've got."

Sadie dropped her head so that her curls fell across her face, but they couldn't conceal the color spreading across her cheeks.

There had been a moment - should she just assume he knew everything? - early in the evening, when Daniel had slipped his hand into her panties, and she was glad that she'd shaved. He had curled his fingers and strummed her clit expertly, making her croon, and when she'd opened her eyes wide, gasping up at him helplessly, he had smiled: Are you going to come for me? - one second before she'd dissolved into shudders, clutching his sleeve to keep her balance, bucking on his fingers and gushing into his hand.

In spite of the way the rest of the evening had unfolded, she couldn't forget that instant - when she still thought he was sexy, when she still thought he would respect her boundaries, and he had seemed to will her orgasm, claiming it for himself. In her young sex life she had never known anything so erotic, and yes - her cheeks burned and she couldn't hide it - she still thought about it. She'd made herself come on that memory again and again, hating herself for it every time.

She'd never told anyone, but somehow - somehow, Mr. Gordon knew.

"You're not upset that he 'raped' you...you're upset that he didn't do it good enough for you."

He stepped away, releasing her and turning his back, utterly unconcerned that she might spring up and lunge at him as he returned to his desk. She felt hot and sick, pressing against the solid door behind her, knowing she could open it and leave at any time, but just staring at the back of his head as he commented without even looking at her that he wasn't going to rape her - that she wasn't worth it.

Sweating and trembling, her chest heaved on painful breaths as he faced her again, leaning casually against his desk as he casually insulted her. Why did it sting, why did she wince when he said that she couldn't make him hard? Ms. Davies's crude question from earlier that day resounded in her memory: If he wanted you, would you have sex with him? And she had blushed.

Let's be entirely honest with each other.

Sadie made herself look at him. He looked slightly impatient now. He had told her to get out. He wasn't going to -

She felt sick. "I - I didn't come here...because I wanted you to - " She couldn't say it. She blinked at him.

"How dare you?" But there was no fury behind it, no breathless indignation. It was what she was supposed to say.

And she should leave. Tell him - tell him to go fuck himself, and storm out of here. He stood there watching her, waiting for her to do it. He'd told her to do it. He wasn't going to rape her. She wasn't worth it.

The moment, the window of moments in which she could have made her exit and still retained a scrap of dignity had passed. She'd hesitated too long, her hesitation had been noted - and even now she stayed pressed against the door, just staring at him.

He had ordered her out. If she left now, didn't he win? If she stayed, did he win? He wasn't going to rape her, she wasn't -

Had Daniel told him she wasn't worth it, or had he come to that conclusion on his own?

If he wanted you -

- but he didn't want her. Sadie shook her head slightly, reaching back with sweaty palms to grip the door frame and leaning her head back, keeping her eyes on him. Really? Did that matter? What kind of fucked up mess was she? She should leave. She didn't feel any better, but...she should leave before he made her feel any worse.

Only, she didn't want to do as he said. That was it, wasn't it?

She swallowed. He had spoken about what made her cunt wet, like he knew that, too. Something uncomfortable stirred in her belly.

"I'm not leaving, Mr. Gordon." Her voice was shakier than she would have liked. She took a step away from the door. "So you can throw me out -"

put your hands on me, and -

"- or you can - you can keep insulting me, if that's what helps you sleep at night." She pushed her curls up off of her face. Her cheeks were still warm. "You - called me a slut in front of everyone, and you know it's not true."

She took another step, but stopped before she was too close. "It's just us here, so let's be honest," she felt more confident, echoing his words, and pushed her chin up stubbornly.

"You know what he did. I didn't want it." It felt good to say. She folded her arms tightly across her chest, trying to stop the trembling.

"So I'm not leaving until - until you apologize."

He felt...

He felt.....

Alive.

This was jousting. Fencing. A dance. He had no question, no doubt, that this hit her in ways it couldn't even begin to touch him, but it still sent a strange kind of energy through his veins. It was this, this moment, this case, this day, that convinced him he was built to be a lawyer. Thundering away at someone on the stand, watching them melt, their case evaporate right in front of everyone assembled...

This was sex.

They weren't fucking, they'd hardly touched in fact, but this was the feeling. The intensity, the build up, the pushing and pushing and pushing towards a release.

They were in a car, headed for a cliff, and he was stomping on the gas with a heady mixture of glee and abandon. They were Thelma and motherfucking Louise.

His heart thudded in his chest, whomp-whomp-whomped in his ears, pumping adrenaline through his veins. The alcohol was adding to the feeling, he knew, but instead of fighting it off he welcomed it, one more thing to be drunk on.

His eyes followed her, pupils dilated, as she fought valiantly to regain her composure, to put on a brave face for him. Assert herself. Make demands. He wasn't sure if he was fighting back a smirk or full blown laughter, until she made her final demand and erased any doubt.

With his hands still dropped into his pockets, he leaned forward at the waist and let out a short, sharp burst of a laugh. His head shook, slowly, side to side as he practically laughed in her face, but his eyes never wavered from her face. Oh, she fought it hard, but there were cracks in her composure. A little tremble in her spine that forced her to move unnaturally, just so, to try and correct for it. The way her chest rose and fell quickly, obvious even under her crossed arms. The little beads of sweat that had formed above her upper lip.

Standing straight from the desk, he shook his head again. Slowly.

Sadly.

"Oh, dear, stupid Sadie."

He took a step closer, halving the distance between them in a single exercise of locomotion.

"Stupid... fucking... Sadie."

He wanted to slap her, send her curls dancing and watch her head shoot to the side, watch her stumble with the force of it, watch her mind try to process the fact that he'd actually hit her, things once barely in her control now well and truly gone. A dog off his leash.

Instead, he took another small step forward, and his eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry, Sadie, that you're a scared little bunny that can't handle the world."

Another step, his voice low as it flowed from him to her, barely above a whisper in the otherwise silent office.

"I'm sorry that you regretted letting that asshole fuck your innocent little body."

He stayed where he was, feet rooted to the floor, but again he leaned forward at the waist, his tie swinging between them like a pendulum, the silk brushing her arms and rebounding towards his chest.

"I'm sorry that you keep putting yourself in situations beyond your control, and then you run crying about it to anyone with a sympathetic ear after the outcome isn't what your poor, slow mind hoped it would be."

His face was inches from hers when he paused, and still he looked her in the face as his lips spread in a wide, falsely bright, faux happy smile.

"I'm sorry, Sadie, that your brain and your cunt can't get on the same page, so you don't keep ending up in situations like this."

His tongue slipped between his lips, swiping across them quickly, wetting them before he continued in the same low tone that he'd been assaulting her with.

"But most off all, Sadie? Do you know what I'm," his eyes narrowed here and he bobbed forward a bit on his toes, bringing their faces momentarily closer together, "most sorry for, Sadie?"

He paused again, letting the question hang in the air, a pitch frozen at chest height and waiting to be crushed, the seams tumbling over and over, so much potential energy waiting to be released.

And then he crushed it.

"I'm sorry that I won't be there tomorrow, and the next night, and the next, and the next. I'm very, very sorry that I won't be there so you can thank me for giving you this memory to replay while you stuff your hand down your panties and pant out my name."

The final word had barely passed his lips when he pulled his hands from his pockets at last. Unlike each step taken as he closed the distance between them, this was done with vicious speed, a coiled snake striking out at it's prey.

His hands found her wrists, fingers encircling them easily, biceps flexing as he pried her arms from her chest. His feet shifted, a step taken back and to the side as he pulled her towards where he'd just stood. The moved foot was planted firmly and used as a pivot point, and he threw her bodily past him and towards his desk in front of her.

He followed close behind her, his momentum carrying them both, a half second passing between her hips colliding with the edge of the desk and his body crashing into hers from behind. One lie of his was exposed then, his crotch against her ass giving away that she was, in fact, able to make him hard.

His hands, fingers splayed, pressed to her shoulder blades, and he pushed her forward, shoving her chest down against the polished top of the desk. One hand slid up then, thumb and fingers splitting and the back of her neck fitting into the notch there, letting him control the posture of her body with one hand while the other moved to her hip. His fingers began a walk, dragging her dress up and collecting the bunched fabric in his hand as he did.

Oh yes... he felt fucking alive...