This story is a collaboration between the talented Milik Redman and myself. I am happy and grateful to have had the opportunity to write with him. Philippe gazed at the leather bound documents with a trepidation he had not felt before. Oh, Mon Dieu! What am I doing? he thought to himself. He was usually a man of intellect and analytical certainty. The growing conflict between an action he knew to be wrong and the equally irresistible impulse to do just that had set his heart and mind into an unfamiliar civil war. This seemingly innocuous tome had become the symbol of that raging moral struggle. Its very presence on his desk was a breach of his ethics. It was anathema to him, or at least it should have been. Nevertheless, there it sat, taunting him with its presence in the seclusion of his study. On the surface, there was nothing really unusual about it. It was a typical Factum, and contained nothing more than the facts; legal references and arguments that would be presented by the Prosecution in the upcoming proceedings. The black leather binding did stand out, but then Philippe knew well that this particular Crown Prosecutor never did anything that was less than perfect. Without even looking, he was certain that the brief inside was every bit as precise and perfectly prepared as was the cover itself. Philippe removed his reading glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. How could this have happened? What were the odds? He put his glasses back on, and to his dismay, the names emblazoned on the first page of the Factum remained unchanged. He stalled for time looking through the pile of factums submitted on his cases to find the one from the defence on this case. Ordinarily, they would have been paired by his clerk, but they had gotten scrambled when he dropped the stack on the floor as he carried them into his house. It was just one more sign of how off-balance he felt both figuratively and literally. To The Honourable Philippe G. Rannou, Judge of the Superior Court of Justice in and for the Province of Ontario. Again, there was nothing odd about that, every brief he received identified him as the Presiding Judge. No, it was the name at the bottom that he was so fixated on: Crown Prosecutor Evelyn Monroe. Philippe’s hand shook slightly as he pulled the crystal stopper from the decanter on his antique desk and he filled the matching crystal tumbler to an inch deep with the amber liquid. The strong, sharp aroma of fine Cognac wafted up and burned into his senses, clearing his stupor before he even wet his lips with the actual liquid. Philippe normally didn’t drink while he reviewed a case, but then again, he wasn’t usually having sex with the Crown Prosecutor either. Having sex? he mused sardonically. That phrase doesn’t even begin to do justice to what we are doing. Evelyn, how could I have allowed myself to put us in this position? He took another sip of his drink and ran his fingers over the pebbled surface of the cover. “I should recuse myself,” he said to himself, and not for the first time. He had offered to do so in fact, when he first learned that Evelyn would be presenting the case, but she had just kissed him and would hear no more of it. He was up for promotion to a higher court and Evelyn would not allow him to risk it by a sudden and unexplained withdrawal from a high profile criminal case. Evelyn, if anything you’re more beautiful now than you were ten years ago, he mused. Ten years ago. That was first time he had ever seen Evelyn. She had been one of his students in the criminal procedure class he was then teaching at the law school. He was a well known criminal defence lawyer at the time and like many other practising lawyers gave back to the profession by teaching a course to the next generation of legal minds. From the first moment he met her he had been attracted to her confident smile, her amazing attention to detail and her intuitive ability to perceive the smallest nuance in legal analysis. Her incisive questions left a lasting impression. Philippe dropped his glasses on top of the Factum and leaned back into his chair as he remembered how powerful his attraction to her had been even then. Everything about her had struck him deeply at the time. He could tell by the playful look in her eye and the way she kind of bounced on the balls of her feet when they spoke that she had felt it as well. Every Göztepe escort bayan time they were alone discussing her term paper it was as if her eyes were begging him to kiss her, and, God forgive him, how he had wanted to. It was his ethics, he reminded himself. Professional ethics forbade him kissing, hell, forbade him making heated, intense and passionate love to a student. His commitment to those ethics had always been ironclad. He had built his career on the belief that they were inviolate, but nothing had ever tempted him to risk the those ethics more than Evelyn did in those months. As difficult as it had been, when the classes finally ended they parted with nothing more between them than a handshake and a forlorn smile for the opportunity both had known they had lost. That all changed two months ago. Evelyn had moved to Toronto and had been assigned to this region. They had met to talk about old times and so that he could congratulate her on her success. This time that spark between them had been undeniable and not even his vaunted principles could keep him from her bed. Not this time. He remembered how warm her body had felt against his and how strongly she had responded to his touch. Sex with Evelyn had been everything he’d dared dream; everything and more. He could not avoid it any longer. He opened the binder and started reading. Philippe made his way through the brief, impressed that it was as every bit as comprehensive as he knew it would be. Then he saw the images of the defendant that had been taken from her own computer. He laughed mirthlessly and shook his head. A sex crimes case. The thought of Evelyn going over every sordid fact in exquisite detail with that knowing glint in her eye sent a jolt of fear through the logical side of his mind. Perfect! I’ll be impeached. No longer be a judge. No chance at the Court of Appeal, he thought grimly, but then smiled as he remembered her scent on his sheets. It might just be worth it. My brilliant career. What irony! There had already been talk of his one day taking a place on the Supreme Court. He would be risking everything for this dalliance. He was reminded of something his friend and colleague, Ben Silverman, often said, “We plan and God laughs.” He took another sip of his drink and rubbed his eyes, feeling tired and maybe a bit ashamed. Ashamed not for himself, he regretted nothing. No, his career was his to squander, but Evelyn’s… if she were to be disgraced he doubted he would ever forgive himself. Lit by the single shaded glow of his desk lamp, his study seemed to absorb the light as it passed beyond his desk. It was muted and soft, so much like her room had been that night. *************** He remembered how she had carried herself as she led him into her most personal sanctuary. She had such incredible poise as she had walked before him with a grace that made his mouth feel suddenly dry. She walked like a dancer. She must have taken ballet when she was young, he thought. He could sense her excitement. It was a palpable thing but it was tempered by that same playfulness that had attracted him so long ago. She was like a fine wine and the years that passed had only made her all the more sensual and alluring. At close to two meters, Philippe was a tall man and Evelyn seemed almost tiny in comparison. She was several centimeters shorter, and her slim frame and delicate features gave her an ethereal look that made his pulse race. Her light brown hair was pulled away from her face and pinned up in a way that made it impossible for him to judge its length. Even in the soft light it seemed to shimmer as she moved. Light curling tendrils had escaped and seemed to frame her face like some pre-Raphaelite beauty. Wordlessly, she turned down the sheets and then turned demurely to face him. Her body almost radiated her arousal but it was tempered by a shyness that pierced him like an arrow flung by a tiny pagan god. He couldn’t remember ever being so enchanted and aroused at the same time. “Philippe, I… I don’t usually do this, I mean..” The words drifted away and she seemed to struggle in her need to explain. He shushed her gently. “I know Evelyn, there’s no need. I’ve wanted you since that time so long ago. I know you feel that. I can’t find the words to say how happy I am that you want to be with me, too.” Escort Caddebostan He mused that both of them were intelligent, articulate people for whom words were so important, and yet here and now they were both unable to really say what they felt. She smiled that golden smile and as he approached to embrace her. He couldn’t help but drink in her subtle beauty. The fine spun wool of her business suit felt strangely smooth in his hands as she melted into his arms. He knew he would never forget that moment when his hands slipped around her waist and he felt the firm softness of her body for the very first time. He caught the faintest wisp of sweet citrus mingling with the understated fragrance of lilac. He couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her. Evelyn eagerly accepted his kiss and responded to it. Her lips felt soft and warm, and just pleasantly moist. Then passion overrode his composure and he held her more tightly as her lips parted. Moist flesh met moist flesh, exploring and dancing together until they were overwhelmed by the moment. Finally they parted, leaving just her forehead touching his. “Hmm, that was some kiss, Philippe,” she whispered and barely contained a giggle. ‘It was wonderful,” he replied. “Would you like to do it again?” Philippe smiled, already knowing the answer and feeling somewhat like a teenager for even asking. They kissed again, and every nuance of her body, the sound of the quick intake of breath, the slight tremble in her body and even the way her fingers lightly tickled the back of his neck were burned indelibly in his mind. Finally, she pulled lightly on his tie, breaking the spell. “I’m going to… slip out of this suit, okay?” Her eyes blazed as she spoke, but her voice was barely a whisper, soft and deep. Then she glanced briefly at the bed. “Why don’t you get comfortable while you wait. I won’t be long.” His lips brushed her cheek. “I will. Please, take all the time you need.” Letting her walk away took an extraordinary effort and when she turned and looked at him over her shoulder, he smiled and sighed softly. “I’ll just be but a minute,” she said and then closed the bathroom door behind her. Philippe remembered that awkward moment vividly. There was that insidious uncertainty that warned him against taking off his clothes and getting into her bed, even though it was clearly what they both wanted. He shook his head and laughed at himself. Then another thought jumped randomly into his mind. Why do women run into the bathroom at times like this? What, other than undressing, do they do in there? *** Evelyn made it to court with a little time to spare despite the downtown traffic. She had put her tabbed shirt and vest on at the office and had carried her robe with her so she did not have to go to the changing room for women lawyers. She had all of her file and reference materials in a couple of banker’s boxes on a wheeled cart which was in the hands of Michael, her articling student, a student lawyer who works for a year with experienced counsel before writing their final Bar examinations. It was the first trial for Michael and he was both excited and nervous. She had coached him on how to behave and what she would need him to do, but now she was wishing she were alone. She wanted a few minutes of calm and quiet, a sort of Zen state she used to get herself prepared for battle, for often, that is what a trial was. She spread her materials on the table and repeated her instructions to Michael. She then stood transfixed watching the door through which Philippe would enter. The defence counsel, Jackson Richards, and his student arrived along with the members of the public, print and television reporters, and family members of the accused and the victim. Witnesses were not permitted to be present and would be called from the waiting area outside the courtroom. The court reporter and security officers arrived along with the court clerk. It became very quiet as the hour approached and the judge was to arrive. The accused, who had been out on bail, rushed into court and sat with her counsel. She was out of breath and clearly worried about being late. She was tall and a redhead. She had dressed in a navy suit and white shirt. Her hair was pulled back from her face. All that was missing was a pair of glasses for the librarian look. Clearly she had been Bağdat Caddesi escort instructed not to look provocative. Evelyn’s emotions roiled in conflict. Her stomach knotted in anxiety as she went through her preparation ritual. She felt an unmistakable flush of nervous excitement bubbling just under her calm exterior and threatening to burst through her stoic facade. She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. This is just another case, she reminded herself again, and she took a deep breath as she put her game face on. It was a mask she could hide behind, a poker face that would not give away her thought process or any reaction to testimony or the words from opposing counsel. She always remained unemotional and impassive in court. But today that was complicated with the knowledge that Philippe would soon arrive. She knew the butterflies she felt were not from any anxiety about arguing her case successfully; she was, as always, confident of that, but rather like those of a teenage girl in love. That was what he had done to her and her professional demeanour. She was terribly afraid her voice would wobble or that she would blush, or, God forbid, that she would say his first name rather than referring to him formally and appropriately when she addressed him in court. This affair was dangerous for both of them and had calamitous implications were it to become public knowledge. ****** Evelyn’s mind drifted to the warm memory of the evening a week earlier. Philippe had come home with her after they had met for dinner downtown. They had taken a cab from the restaurant to her apartment. Finally alone, they had kissed first slightly tentatively and then more passionately. She withdrew to her bathroom to undress and, to be honest, to give both herself and Philippe a moment to consider what they were about to do. Their attraction to each other had been there since she was a law student, becoming stronger as they spent time alone together in a faculty office discussing her third year thesis on a complicated point of criminal law and its interaction with Canada’s Charter of Rights and Freedoms (the equivalent of the American Constitution). Her paper was brilliant. But it was not the thing that had most impressed him. Their frustration was palpable, but unspoken. Each knew that they could not take that leap then. But now, now Philippe was in her bedroom. They had had a lovely meal and drunk a wonderful Barbaresco, actually finishing two bottles as they talked at length over their meal. She was relaxed but not tipsy and any decision she made now would be one made with no excuse. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted any other man in years. He was everything that she admired and turned her on. Evelyn undressed completely and put on a soft pink silk robe. She put a little more perfume on behind her ears, on her neck and shoulders, between her breasts, and on her wrists – all places she wanted to be kissed, but not only those places. She took a deep breath and readied herself. Just like at court, she thought, smiling. She opened the door and went back into her room. Evelyn found Philippe sitting on the bed. He had taken his jacket off but that was all. She walked over to him and stood between his legs, leaning down to hold and kiss his face and mouth. He held her and she found herself on his lap, unbuttoning his shirt as she continued to kiss him. They stood and both continued to undress him all the while kissing and caressing each other. When he was naked, Philippe tugged on the belt of her robe and opened it. His kisses trailed from her mouth to her ear lobe, neck and shoulders. He cupped her breasts in his hands and felt her nipples stiffen as he returned to kissing her deeply on the mouth. Evelyn felt as if these kisses went from there all the way through her. She could feel her arousal below, a contraction of her muscles there and she knew that she was becoming hot and moist. They somehow managed to move from vertical to horizontal on the bed without being aware of just how it happened, without ever letting go of each other. Evelyn lay on her back and Philippe straddled her, now staring at her. “It seems we’ve waited forever for this. But looking at you now and having you like this, it was worth it,” Philippe said hoarsely. Evelyn could not form words. She just pulled him close with a deep sigh and felt his weight on her as he continued to stroke her body and cover her with kisses. Oh God, I knew that I have wanted him for years, but I did not know until this moment how much, she thought. She reached for him and felt his arousal. His penis was fully engorged and she could feel the delicious weight of his scrotum in her hand.