For no fathomable reason, being a criminal lawyer had been Christina Hunt’s ambition since she was old enough to have any idea what she wanted to work at. No one in her family had been in the law and there was no logical reason that drew her to it. That is other than her love of the TV programmes Rumpole of the Bailey, Perry Mason and Cavanagh QC. She had dreamed of being a barrister and a courtroom advocate for as long as she could remember.
That had been the driving force at the minor public school she attended in an Essex, London suburb. It had been that ambition, which had kept her top of her class throughout her time at the school. It was her burning desire to fulfil her objective that drove her to study hard so she attained the four A plus grades she needed to gain entry to Cambridge. Her academic brilliance at school was rewarded by her being made Head Girl and Top Scholar when she was in her last year after she turned eighteen. She was not just a big brain, though, for she represented the school at tennis, netball and hockey and played for the County at tennis.
However, even at the tender age of eighteen, there was another side to her. A side that she kept well covered. A side she assiduously kept away from others. That was the side where in her last year at school she lost her virginity to a twenty-three year old black guy. The side where she fucked four other guys within the next year. And the side where she had a brief affair with a thirty-eight year old married man all during her nineteenth year.
Even against the stiffer opposition at Cambridge, Chrissy stood out. Consistently she was in the honours group, she was successful at sports, she was in the debating society and she was well on her way to gaining a first class honours degree. At the same time, her dark side also was enjoying new delights. She had sex with two lecturers, an almost unheard of activity at Cambridge.
By the time she arrived at Cambridge when she was nineteen, Chrissy had had five lovers and she had been in a threesome with another girl and a guy. By the time she left Pembroke College, she had doubled the number of men she had slept with and had been with two women.
After leaving Cambridge with a first class honours degree in law and an impeccable record, Chrissy was courted by such big law firms, such as Allen Overy, Clifford Chance, Freshfields, Herbert Smith, Farrars and Slaughter and May who were part of a group of London solicitors known as the ‘magic circle.’ Although the offers were very tempting financially, being a corporate lawyer was not what Chrissy wanted. She had no appetite for schmoozing clients or for endless tedious negotiations and late night meetings. It was the unusual combination of the solitude of reading briefs for hours on end and then standing up in court in the rather ridiculous and quintessentially British gown and wig and arguing her point that was the appeal to her. That was why she turned down the ‘magic circle’ and accepted a position with a firm of barristers in the Inner Temple.
The judge in his crimson, ermine lined robe and shoulder-length wig stood up. The rest of the people in the court followed his lead.
“Thank you Ms Hunt and Mister Banshaw-Groves, it has been a well conducted case.”
The two barristers in their black robes and short wigs bowed their heads.
“Thank you my lord,” they both muttered as the judge left the oak-panelled courtroom.
“Well Chrissy, you did me again you sod,” the prosecuting council said to the defending lawyer.
“All my pleasure, I assure you Duncan,” the attractive, but not stunningly so, slim, blonde woman smiled back as she collected her papers and laptop and shoved them into her already bulging brief case.
“I really do not know how you do it sometimes, it’s as if you mesmerise the judge,” he went on.
Smiling to herself Christina slid her hand inside her black, barrister’s gown and ran her fingers down the front of her leg in the just above the knee length, quite tight black skirt. Her fingers found the stud on the Perla suspender belt and she rubbed it, just as she did occasionally when addressing the judge.
“Anyway congratulations, perhaps I could buy you dinner sometime to celebrate?”
“Yes that would be lovely, it is ages since I have seen Fiona, how is she?” Christina replied smiling at Duncan as she saw him cringe at the mention of his wife.
She walked to the car park and, after removing her gown, climbed into her Porsche. The drive from Snaresbrook to the bolt hole, one bedroom flat she kept in the East End near to Bethnal Green tube station took just twenty minutes.
She microwaved a frozen meal, ate that, showered, changed and caught a cab to Shoreditch House. Martin was waiting for her in the bar. They had a couple of drinks.
“Sure let’s go.”
Martin eased the Mercedes S600 through the light early evening traffic towards Alexandra Palace.
He and güvenilir bahis Chrissy had met online in a chat room. They had chatted increasingly intimately until they agreed to talk on the phone. That, probably inevitably, led to them masturbating together, which in turn resulted in them camming with both of them naked. There seemed little point to either of them in not meeting when he suggested it. Although it was her idea to go dogging, Martin was well up for it.
He parked behind the main building in what was normally the overflow car park. There were a dozen or so cars there and as they drove across the parking area to the far corner, the car lights lit up numerous men walking around. He parked the car and dimmed the outside lights, but left the inside one on dim; the dogging code for you may watch, but not join in. The outside lights on and inside ones off means the opposite. He slid all four windows down an inch or so and locked the doors.
They got into the back of the car and lay on the large back seat. There was loads of room on the seat and between that and the back of the front ones. He took her in his arms and kissed her. She kissed him back. Purposefully, she had worn a short skirt and a loose, button up the front blouse. Having only smallish B cup boobs she had not bothered with a bra. The skirt was quickly around her waist and the buttons were undone on her blouse. He sucked her prominent, even when not aroused, nipples as she reached for his zip. It came down very easily and they manoeuvred his trousers and boxers down his legs, but not off. Chrissy gripped and stroked his beautifully hard cock.
Although it was darker outside than in, Chrissy saw and then heard movements round the car. She had no idea how many were there, but she knew that at least one person each side of the car was watching them.
As she had slid his zip down and got his respectably thick cock out from his trousers she heard a few gasps. When she was licking its length she glanced up and caught the gazes of a few onlookers. She found that to be the turn on she had anticipated it would be.
When Martin rolled the short skirt up, tucked the hem into the waistband and rolled her panties down, thus exposing her pubic hairs and her pussy, she heard more noises and saw more movements. And when she straddled Martin and they started to fuck, so she saw not only more shadowy images, but also heard them moaning and sighing as some obviously jerked off. As she and Martin roared towards a mutual climax, so the sighs, groans, moans and expressions of how much the voyeurs were enjoying watching them increased.
Martin dropped her back at the Shoreditch House. She never contacted him again and he had no idea who she was, which was exactly how she wanted things between them to be.
Christina had been aware of these contrasts and contradictions in her behaviour for many years. On the surface there was her total respectability, but just slightly under it there lurked a completely different person. It went back years, even at school when she was head girl, a top scholar and was seen as a teacher’s pet, she was leading a busy sex life for a teenager, and particularly for one who had so much studying to do. The contradictions were not restricted to her being seen as a ‘butter would not melt in her mouth girl’ for what went into her mouth was not confined to butter! No they went further. She did not fuck around with her own kind. She fucked boys from the local comprehensive, uneducated boys, black boys and older men. She got a strange kick from not going with boys from private schools and ‘good’ families.
At university she found the same behaviours happening. It was almost unheard of for a first year student at Cambridge to have a fling with any of the lecturing staff. She fucked two including a professor and a woman. It somehow appealed to her to excel at the academic and sporting aspects of university life while at the same breaking the rules and succeeding at the sexual side as well.
She was careful though. She was discrete and went to great lengths to ensure that she was not caught doing what she shouldn’t like fucking Professor Pamela Henderson the Head of English or earlier having sex with three different boys in a couple of weeks with none of them getting her real name, address or phone number. She really was a ‘fuck ’em and leave ’em’ type of girl and that had carried on through her life and career up to now, Martin being a prime example.
Unbeknown to Chrissy, once Morecombe, Hendricks and Carson had accepted her, there had been an internal struggle amongst the partners as to who would have her as a pupil. Hugh Morecombe managed to win and that started a relationship that lasted to this day. It survived him being married, getting divorced and married again, leaving the chamber and becoming a judge.
She was twenty-three at the time it started and had just left university. Although in her way she was quite experienced, Chrissy türkçe bahis was not used to dealing with worldly-wise, sophisticated players like Hugh Morecombe.
At forty-six He was one of the top criminal lawyers in London, a QC, Deputy Head of Chambers at MHC and a great, great grandson of one of the founders. His earnings were stupendous and he led a full on, upscale life-style. He was married at the time and had two children, both of whom were slightly older than Christina. He had an apartment in Chelsea Harbour where he stayed when in town and a farm in Gloucestershire near to Prince Charles as well as a villa in Tuscany and an apartment in Palm Springs.
Chrissy was the model employee. She was always impeccably dressed in the female lawyer’s uniform of black suit, crisp white suit, mid-height heels and black hosiery. Even with this, though, she was a contradiction and a contrast. Her difference with this was that whilst pretty much all the other female lawyers wore tights, she delighted in and thrilled herself by, wearing stockings, mostly holdups, but sometimes with a suspender belt. She would accompany them with a slither of a thong or occasionally a pair of black silk, French knickers and sometimes nothing. Sexy underwear excited Chrissy as much as it did the men who undressed her when she was wearing it
During her first year of pupillage Chrissy gradually got to know and learned from rumour and a little careful investigation more about her boss.
Hugh Morecombe had quite a reputation amongst the female barristers and clerks as a ladies man. In fact he was a right bastard really, but a nice one. He had a permanent mistress who he kept in an apartment in Fitzrovia that was just a short cab ride from The Temple where the firm had its chambers. Additionally, he used a very high class brothel in Notting Hill, where he was known simply as Mister H, attended stag dos with other senior lawyers, policemen and city figures where live sex took place sometimes with up to six performers at the same time and he fucked pretty much any woman he could.
Despite these findings, or maybe due to them, she liked him. She enjoyed his humour, thought he was attractive, probably had a good body, was a bit of a rake, had a fantastic mind and might well be an adept lover and there was no chance of either falling in love with the other. Smiling she thought ‘The perfect lover.’
From the first day Hugh had seen Christina he knew that he wanted to fuck her, but then that was nothing different as he usually wanted to fuck any good looking woman he met. He made it quite obvious to his young pupil that he was attracted to her.
They were both aware of the mutual attraction, but Hugh was, unusually for him, a little reticent to make a play for her. That was not just due to their closeness at work and the potential ‘collateral damage’ if it became known in chambers, but also because he was rather worried about the twenty plus years age difference. He had not bedded any woman with such a gap in years between them.
Christina, on the other hand, had few reservations, but was not inclined to take the lead and let him think she was seducing him. Her line of thinking was that if he wanted her and went about it the right way, she would probably go along with it, but she was not going to put herself in the position of the ‘predator.’ Since her teens she had had a ‘thing’ about older men and had been with several.
As they got to know each other and worked more closely together so they started to flirt. Hugh was suggestive and Chrissy was receptive. This was well before PC reared its ugly head and they both enjoyed the banter between them. Despite Hugh being an eminent QC and Christina simply a pupil, a trainee, they got on well in a relaxed and intimate way. Without anything being said to the other they both came to the conclusion that they probably would sleep together if and when the situation presented itself.
As a pupil in a barrister’s chamber Christina’s master, as Hugh was called, was charged with delivering a certain amount of formal training as well as having her ‘shadowing’ him in meetings and courtrooms. They had agreed when she started working for him that the bulk, if not all the formal training would be done after the normal working day, if there is such a thing in the law, Christina had thought having become used to working regularly twelve or fourteen hour days.
“This evening Chrissy, we are going to focus on courtroom communications,” Hugh said as they sat in his rooms in the Temple, some of which, Hugh’s included, dated back to Elizabethan times in the sixteenth century. Whilst attractive and full of tradition they were, despite the central heating, usually freezing cold.
After they had finished work at eight, he had poured them both a glass of red wine.
“I think we have earned a drink don’t you, Chrissy?”
“I would like to think so.”
“Well everyone else has gone so it can be our secret.”
They settled güvenilir bahis siteleri into the easy chairs at one end of the cluttered room, near the windows looking out over the cobbled courtyard that ran down to the Embankment and the Thames. Christina sat on a sofa and Hugh on an armchair opposite her providing him with a great view of her shapely, black nylon covered legs. Without a sign of embarrassment he stared at them. With an equal lack of embarrassment she saw that, but did nothing about it and simply sat there with them crossed staring at him, a slight smile on her face.
“In court Chrissy,” he said getting up and walking round the room actually as if in a court room, and stood behind her. Trying to look down the front of her crisp white blouse that he thought had one more button undone than it had previously he went on. “You have to project yourself, be committed and in effect sell yourself.”
He moved right behind her and taking a deep breath rested both hands on her shoulders. She was wearing a black, M and S, light wool suit with a skirt that reached her knees. The jacket had three buttons all of which were open.
She jumped when she felt his hands rest on her shoulders and at first she went to move away, but then realising that it felt quite nice and it was not at all out of keeping with the flirty relationship that was developing between them, she did nothing.
“You have to use all your faculties and skills on the jury, but also on the judge,” Hugh said his finger softly rubbing the young woman’s shoulders. It felt nice for both of them and Hugh began to think that perhaps now was the time. He started to harden and felt that it would be best if he sat down. He did not want to embarrass himself if this was going nowhere. He told her that she needed to be sharp with her diction and that she should practice being both concise and precise. Just before he moved away he took a risk and slid his fingers downwards.
As he did that, he said.
“Make frequent eye contact with the judge, but also with members of the jury. Visual communications are every bit as important as verbal ones, so use both.”
His finger went slowly past her collar bones and rested on her upper chest just above where the swell of her pert breasts flared outwards. That movement had made Chrissy jump again and as she felt them sliding slowly downwards she thought that he was going to cup her breasts and was slightly surprised when he stopped and moved away. She realised with a jolt that she was also rather disappointed.
He came and sat beside her.
“With your looks and er, um…” He paused before continuing as he ran his gaze up and down her youthfully firm and lithe body. “Figure, you can seduce the jury.”
“So it’s not just the quality of the argument?” She asked realising that Hugh was sitting closer to her than was normal; their hips and legs were almost touching.
“No, no, no, it’s often as much how you present the information and how persuasive you are,” he told her feeling his erection becoming full, but thankfully getting held up in the folds of his shirt and boxers. “Posture is also very important. Looking confident and relaxed when you say something gives it much more credibility than if said in a hesitant way.”
“Yes of course I understand that.”
“Never wear trousers and make sure your skirts are the right length.”
“And what length is that?”
Based on the probable hundred or so woman he had seduced during his flirting career, Hugh felt confident about his pupil now.
“Well Chrissy,” he said hesitantly as he plucked up the final elements of his courage. “With legs like these,” he went resting his fingertips on her knee and pausing.
Chrissy, although vastly less experienced than Hugh, knew full well what was going on. They were playing the ‘will she won’t she game,’ he was testing the waters and giving her the chance to pull out and stop him before there was a major loss of face. Far more coolly than she felt she looked at his hand on her knee then into his eyes.
“Yes Hugh, with legs like these?”
“They should not be covered up, but your skirt should not be too short.”
“Just on the knee perhaps?” Chrissy offered. “Like this one?”
“Yes my dear this is the perfect length,” he went on softly stroking her knee as he continued. “You have to be persuasive especially with the judge, but also to the solicitors. Do you think you can be Chrissy?”
“Yes I think so.”
“That’s both verbally and body language.”
“Hmmm, not so clear there.”
“Well for instance, never stand with crossed legs, don’t stand with your arms by your side and don’t lean against the table,” he said his hand now having moved a few inches up her leg so that it was pressing against the hem of her skirt. “Do you get what I mean? Body language is so important.”
“Yes I understand that now Hugh.”
“So Chrissy,” he went on leaning a little closer to her as his fingers gently squeezed her leg six inches or so above her knee. “Do you think you can be persuasive with both words and gestures?”
“Yes Hugh I think I can,” she said placing her right hand on top of his left one that was resting on the sofa between their hips.