Christmas Crimes

Snow fell softly from the sky, coating the world in a blanket of white. We sat before a roaring fire, wrapped in each other's arms. Presents had been exchanged, wine forgotten. You kiss me, deep and long.

Ring...Ring...Ring...

Damn it! The dream was just getting to the good part as it faded away. I always said my partner had horrible timing.

"What the fuck, Cooper? Don't you know what time it is?" I growl into the phone.

"Summers, I don't care what dream I just interrupted. Now get your ass in gear and meet me at 1216 South Street. NOW Summers."

My response, one complete with enough cursing to make a sailor blush, was met with the dial tone. It wasn't even 5 a.m. Christmas day. Kids were still dreaming of the goodies they would find in the morning. I should still have been dreaming too...

I slid my badge into my pocket and strapped on my holster. Fresh snow crinkled under my boots as I stomped to my car. Slamming it into gear, I raced through the empty streets.

For once, there was no need for a map or my GPS. 1216 South was an address I knew well. The old church had been converted into a soup kitchen. Once upon a time, I had helped with its opening. And the owner, well, we had history.

My old partner, Kevin, was injured in the line one night. The guy took a bullet for me. From a crazed fucking meth-head. He got off the job and decided to open the kitchen as his way of continuing to give back to our city. Kevin had been a great partner. A good friend. And (once or twice) a remarkable lover. Okay. Maybe that's not exactly accurate.

Remarkable didn't begin to describe him. And it was far more frequent than once or twice. More like after every big bust to celebrate or a particularly tough day. He wanted to make it more permanent. I freaked out. Stupid move - one I always regretted, especially after he got himself all wifed up. She knew our history and didn't exactly approve of him spending time with me.

I couldn't blame her. I missed Kevin like crazy and, truth be told, I wanted him bad. It had been too long since we saw each other. Kevin and I had a regular meet about once a month, but the job had me canceling the last couple.

Get your mind out of the gutter. It was a strictly clothes on kind of deal. Not that either of us would have minded getting naked for old times sake. That's why our little get togethers never included alcohol. That's how little we trusted ourselves, despite the fact that we couldn't see to stay away from each other.

I felt a pang when I saw the soup kitchen flickering with the lights of at least 10 cruisers and surrounded by crime scene tape. I flashed my badge at the uniform guarding the scene and scrambled under the tape. I looked at the name on the girl's uniform. "Park, report. Where's the owner? Has he been notified?" I demanded.

My relationship with Kevin was no secret on the force. Apparently the newbies had been filled in as well because it was hard to miss the oh shit look on Park's face. "Uh, well, you see," she stuttered, red-faced.

"PARK!" I bellowed. "That is not how they taught you to give a report at the academy. Now stop stammering and give me a proper report!"

Just then the coroner came out of the building. Stan's blue eyes sparkled, as they always did, when he first saw me. Then his expression became crestfallen.

________

Across town, John kicked the snow off his work boots and removed black leather gloves from his hands. A biter smile played on his lips as he stared up at the Christmas tree. Stacks of presents covered the floor.

He wouldn't be able to keep up this charade much longer. Eventually he would have to tell her. She would be furious. No job. No savings. He didn't even want to think about what he had to do in order to afford those presents...

The new year has to bring better times, he thought hopefully. I can't go on like this much longer.

______

Julianne strolled into her penthouse apartment, lights illuminating automatically upon her arrival in each room. Music played softly as she removed her black leather gloves, placing them on the counter and slinging her trench over a chair.

A single tear rolled down her cheek. Holidays were always the hardest. Yet another special occasion spent without him. She thought of the presents she had lovingly selected and wrapped for him. Presents which still lay unopened on the table. The candles had burned out long ago. The meal she had lovingly prepared had gone cold.

A bottle of champagne still sat mostly untouched. She reached for the Dom, running a manicured nail over the label. Then her fingers curled around the neck of the bottle and hurled it against the wall. As the bottle shattered, so did her resolve. Julianne's eyes burned with unshed tears.

Being the other woman could be a real bitch, she thought bitterly.

_________

You didn't need my masters in criminology and 15 years on the job to put the clues together. The vic was Kevin. My Kevin. Fuck.

I should have taken myself off the case. You could say I lacked a certain degree of objectivity here. But my connection to the victim and the scene of the crime would give me the single-minded drive and focus necessary to solve this murder.

When we caught this fucker, I would be the one to get the satisfaction of bringing him down.

There's No Place Like Home...

In case you've been living under a rock, you heard that the east coast got pummeled with a blizzard Sunday night. Well, we were supposed to fly back from Florida on Monday afternoon. "Supposed to" obviously gives away the rest of the story...

But for those of you who need things spelled out...

We were told that our plane was at the airport and we were only delayed 30 minutes, which would work out perfectly because Newark was supposed to open its runways at 4. So on the basis of that solid information from my dad's special airline connections (he surpassed being platinum probably 4 months ago and is now like presidential elite super status), we checked out of the hotel and headed to the airport.

We checked our bags. Got through security. Made our way to the gate. This, of course, was no small feat with my 80 year old grandmother who had to keep stopping because her legs hurt, my uncle who is still in a boot and his leg is all fucked up, his wife, their two kids, my parents, husband and our son who likes to run freely around the airport making everyone chase after him. He's a fast little bugger. (Hubby's brother says Andrew DEFINITELY does not get speed or athletic ability from his dad) But it takes awhile to go anywhere when there are 10 of you...

So when we got to the gate, our flight was canceled.

While waiting on line to talk to someone at the gate, we got on our respective laptops, iPads, or cell phones - only to learn that the next flight we were eligible to take into Newark would leave Orlando on JANUARY 1!

The good people at Continental were able to get us onto a flight into DC the next day. As we wandered back to baggage claim to reclaim our 9 million suitcases, we were able to make reservations at a hotel. Of course, my uncle's family's reservation got booted twice - so they weren't able to make it onto the same flight as us.

DC is only a short train ride from home. We booked our tickets and hopped on a plane today into Dulles. Yeah... It took the freaking airline AN HOUR to get our bags off the plane. Which meant we had a whopping 40 minutes left to get from the airport to Union Station to claim our tickets and get on the train.

Yeah... We didn't make it. Not even close. And - of course - all the trains and cars and buses are booked for the rest of tonight.

So here I am. Sitting in my third hotel room in 2 days. (We managed to snag the last couple rooms left in the hotel, which is full of Carolina fans eager to root against my Terps) I could have driven back from Florida faster than I will arrive back home. We're set to take a train tomorrow afternoon.

Cross your fingers for me that we get back home tomorrow. We need all the good luck we can get!

(Meanwhile, I'd also like to thank the good people at Marriott and Continental, who have made a bloody fortune off my family this trip... But at least they got us on flights before next year and into hotel rooms, despite us apparently following the college bowl game circuit)

More...

The night began like so many others, with cheap booze and good company. I sat on the couch with a bad beer, staring at an even worse movie. I was so lost in reliving the latest fight with my boyfriend I barely saw the movie. It hardly registered when Anthony sat down next to me.

Anthony was a regular at these gatherings, though we rarely talked. Beyond his preference in beer and cigarettes, I knew relatively little about the guy. As I turned toward him, I unexpectedly felt myself flush under his gaze. I inhaled sharply as his fingers grazed my hip. Accidentally? Had to be. He has a girlfriend. We're in a room full of people. He's not going to start groping me with all these witnesses...

It was around then that I realized his lips were moving. Those intense eyes burned into mine but I had no idea what he was saying. He reached out and laid his hand on mine, thumb running over my knuckles. "Where are you tonight?" My eyes remained on his hand. Flesh burned wherever he had touched me. And I couldn't help but imagine how amazing those hands would feel over the rest of my body.

I shook my head, forcing those thoughts from my head, raising my eyes to his. "I could use another drink. You?" I stood quickly, retreating to the kitchen, hoping to put some distance between the two of us. As I poured myself a very stiff drink, I watched Anthony step onto the balcony. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, staring out into the darkness. I stepped out next to him, hoping to draw as little attention as possible from the rest of the apartment.

We stood beside each other wordlessly, the silence saying all the things we wanted to. I allowed myself to rub my leg against his, savoring the forbidden sensation of flesh on flesh. Watching him as he smoked, I knew Anthony would be trouble. And it was so fucking appealing.

I retreated inside and returned to pretending to watch the movie. In truth, Anthony had me captivated in a way that was both exciting and a little unnerving. He never returned to the couch, but I could feel his eyes on me. His gaze was a lover's caress along the length of my body. As the night wore on, and the drinks continued to flow, I kept searching for other opportunities to be alone with him, to find ourselves back out on the balcony.

That opportunity never presented itself. Too soon, he reached for his keys and began saying his goodbyes. When he got to me, he took in my glassy eyes and the bottle of vodka at my feet. "I'm taking you home. Don't even think about fighting me on this. You're in no condition to drive." He said.

He held out a hand to help me to my feet. I wobbled a bit and he slid an arm around my waist to steady me as we walked. I didn't really need the assist. I just wanted to feel his arms around me.

He eased his car into a spot across from my house. How had we gotten here so soon? He unfastened his seat belt and turned toward me.

You have no idea how badly I want to kiss you.

My heart skipped a beat before pounding wildly in my chest. I wanted desperately for him to kiss me. But what about his girlfriend? My boyfriend? Desire and loyalty began a furious war inside me... For once, I had no idea which side would win.

So... He began hesitantly. If I kissed you, would you slap me in the face? Kiss me back? Or continue to sit there with that shocked look on your face?

I didn't know. Still, a voice I hardly recognized challenged, "why don't you try it and see."

I can still close my eyes and savor every moment of that kiss. The feel of his lips. The musky scent of cologne. The look on his face when he finally pulled back, neither of us wanting that moment to end.

Soft and sweet. Heat sizzling just below the surface. It was the first of many and much more than just a kiss...

words...

Sometimes I sit down at the computer and the words pour out of me. Fingers fly over the keyboard, unable to keep pace with the ideas rushing forth to get down on the screen. Those stories are easy, the ones that write themselves.

Other times, the right lines, plots, words are more elusive. Those stories can take months (or longer) to gel, until I find the right inspiration to bring it all together. Those stories are harder, yet far more satisfying.

A jumble of words waiting to take shape into something bigger, better, than they were alone.

I'm starting to wrestle one of those stories to the ground. Only a few hundred words in, I love where the story will go if I actually take it the distance. But a few hundred words in, I also have to wonder whether anyone will want to read my words.

When I pick up a book, I devour it. I'm consumed by the characters, the plot, all the tiny details that make a story great. Hopefully one day you guys will be that entranced in one of my tales - and I can say I have a book of my own.

One day...

Because I don't really have anything to say...

giving thanks

So today is thanksgiving. It's my favorite holiday. It's the one time a year I love being in the kitchen. I love the routine, the tradition of the day.

In keeping with that tradition, yesterday I bailed on work early, picked up Andrew from day care in the middle of his naptime (he was NOT happy that I woke him up) and battled the traffic up to my parents' house. I baked pumpkin bread, made the sweet potatoes and the cranberry sauce (not bad for the self-proclaimed undomestic goddess, huh?). My sister marinaded broccoli, made dips, baked an upside down cranberry cake and is currently fighting with my mom over the mashed potatoes.

Mom has yet to make the stuffing, which is disappointing because I want to start my attempts to try to steal some! Attempt, of course, is the operative word because she has this magic sixth sense about the stuffing. No matter where she is in the house, she knows the exact moment that my dad or I open the oven to pilfer a few pieces of the stuffing goodness. You can hear her screaming "JAIME! MICHAEL! GET OUT OF THE DAMN STUFFING!" from anywhere in the house.

Hubby is chasing Andrew around the house. The parade is on the tv, which will be followed by the dog show. Hubby, at that point, will probably sneak off somewhere and try to watch some football. It just started to snow and Andrew is begging to go outside and ride his bicycle up and down the driveway.

The over-under on my uncle's arrival is anywhere between 30 minutes and an hour late. I've laid odds on him being 45 minutes late. That's usually a safe bet. Sad that this is what we usually do for his arrival time. He was bad on his own, worse when he got married, and hillacious once he had kids.

My grandmother should be arriving within the next hour with the turkey. And this year she's arriving solo. Being without grandpa this year is a big gaping hole that no amount of turkey and stuffing can fill. My dad is sitting on the couch with his laptop watching demos on how to carve a turkey because, this year it will be his job.

There was a big debate over whether to set a place for grandpa, even though he's not here with us. Or whether to have a pumpkin pie in his honor (he was the big pumpkin fan - the rest of us kind of tolerated it). Both those ideas were shot down with an emphatic no by dad...

I'm happy that the family is coming together and that I'll be surrounded by the people I love. But damn I miss him.

Have a great thanksgiving with the ones you love.

I can't come up with a creative title for this one...

Yeah, yeah, yeah... I know. I've been neglecting my blog. And yours.

So here's the story...

At work a couple weeks back I was told that I was getting a promotion to senior associate. (I was also asked to keep this very hush hush until the official announcement was made. It still hasn't been made public knowledge so if you know me in real life... shhhh! Especially you mom!)

Anyway, the promotion came with the talk.

What does Jaime want to be when she grows up?

Because it's not enough to be a good lawyer. It's not enough to be a corporate litigator. You have to declare a major within the school of commercial litigation. Construction? Business divorces? Products liability?

So I thought about it. And the truth is, I love what I do now. The mix of business breakups and construction. But some of my favorite cases have been doing product liability defense. They're interesting. They're hard. You have to become an expert on a specific product for each case.

But we don't really do much of that work these days. And if we, like most companies, are feeling the hit of the economy sucking does the firm really want to invest the time and money into my learning this area when it won't be a profit center for several years? If it doesn't show a profit for awhile, does that mean I'll be out on my ass? No matter what I think of my own skills, the general counsel for Mitsubishi isn't walking through the door for ME. So what partner is going to jump into this realm to help get me going?

How am I going to go out and get this work? And *shudder* it means I actually have to market. I HATE networking. It is torture for me. Seriously. I'd rather have a root canal than sit around with a bunch of suits and whore myself out. You'll rarely hear me brag about my achievements.

I've gotten a $1.4M judgment for a client. Most lawyers who are twice my age can't say that. I'm the editor in chief of my state's young lawyers publication and was tasked with reviving the publication after the last editor fucked up so badly she didn't put out an edition all last year. I've written 10 articles for the american bar association and am in line to be the editor of one of their publications next year. I ran the prep of a $20M trial and lived in the office for 2 months straight to accomplish what no other associate in my office could, whether they had been at the office for 5 years or 25.

But none of that matters. Why does the CEO of GM care that I founded my school's law review? (Yes, we lawyers still claim ownership of those titles from law school at the beginning, middle and end of our careers.) My work speaks for itself - or else it should - because I'm damn good at what I do.

So now I have to develop a business plan for what will eventually be my own department at the firm. I don't have a freaking clue where to start. Thanks to those of you who have given me some ideas and who have offered to help. I might be calling on you again for assistance in the very near future...

temptation

It was one of those nights... They both sat in their places. Bored looks of contentment played on their faces.

The children slept soundly in their beds. Dreams of ghosts and goblins danced in their heads. Candy wrappers were strewn carelessly on the floor, evidence of the stolen treasures snuck into their rooms.

Despite the hour, a steady stream of kids still came to the house. Teenagers in various stages of "costume," lugging their heavy pillow cases full of loot. Each time the doorbell rang, they would report back who came to the door - a devil, a football player, a princess.

When the trick or treating traffic slowed, Charles retreated to his laptop to begin preparations for an early morning board meeting. His attention was so focused on sales figures and statistics, he never noticed that Jennifer's jeans and sweatshirt had turned into something far more racy. She had pranced in front of him in a barely there slip, straddled his lap for a passionate kiss, but her efforts were - once again - rebuffed.

Wrapping herself in a warm robe, Jennifer sulked on the couch. She too was lost in another world. One where the sands of time had reversed to a time where she was so much more than the blond trophy wife. One where she was wanted. Needed. Loved.

She longed for the man she fell in love with. He had been so much fun, so full of life. He had swept her off her feet with romantic gestures. Jennifer was never thought of herself as one of those silly women who believed in love at first sight, but she had fallen hard for Charles, almost instantly.

They had their differences, but they seemed to compliment each other so well. There was no hesitation when he finally asked her out - and, in that moment, she would have said yes had he proposed instead. Years later, he was burned out by work though blind ambition continued to force him forward. The passion between them had fizzled, their encounters far too infrequent and brief. While they still had great fondness and affection for each other, perhaps still loved each other, there was no doubt that the relationship had fundamentally changed and not for the better.

She longed for the man she married. The man she loved. The urge for that man was so strong, she cried herself to sleep at night missing him.

And yet her heart also cried out for another.

Eric. A man who would never fully be in her past. The man that all others would be measured against and be found wanting. He meant more to her than she was ever able to express. They had been close friends, passionate lovers and fought bitterly, wounding each other like no one else could. Beneath it all was a love that never faded, not with time, distance, other partners.

No doubt about it, Eric had laid claim to her heart years ago and she never really got it back. Oh, how she ached for him. For what could have been.

The door bell rang, snapping her out of her reverie. She opened the door, fake smile plastered on her face. "And what do we have here?" she asked sweetly taking in the stranger on her doorstep. He was wearing all black and a mask... and clearly too old for trick or treating.


A big cock, she thought to herself then silently chastised herself for the inappropriate thought.
Jennifer held out the bowl of candy to him. "Well, rooster, help yourself. You're probably our last taker of the night."

He reached out and took hold of her wrist. Jennifer gasped as he pulled her to him. Holding her firmly against him, he slid the mask down his face with one hand. She could hardly believe her eyes.

Jennifer shook her head, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Her heart pounded in her chest and, for once in her life, she found herself incapable of words.

Eric? Here?

He pressed his finger against her lips. Her flesh burned under his touch while the rest of her body screamed for more.

"I had to see you," he whispered. "Meet me tomorrow." He slid a piece of paper into her hand, which she knew would hold an address and room number. Her hands shook with the effort it took not to reach out for him, not to kiss those lips. It took all of her self-control to step back into the house and close the door.

Charles called out from the other room asking who was at the door. A tear rolled down Jennifer's cheek before she composed herself and responded honestly.

Temptation.

________
A belated Magpie and Theme Thursday.

Halloween

So for a week, Andrew did nothing but talk about dressing up like Woodie and going trick or treating to get lots and lots of candy.

Of course, today Andrew fought us to get up from his nap and put on his costume. He ran outside, happy our neighbor left a big container of pretzels outside. He happily knocked on another neighbor's door, claiming...more pretzels.

But after that, all he wanted to do was hang out on the playground... So this is how we spent Halloween:


I guess he had the right idea... I mean, what's a cowboy without his horse?

in case you needed another reason to lose weight

It's already shaping up to be a hell of a week... so this is as much of a post as I can manage right now.

In other news, I have to figure out how to write a business plan. Yeah, I'm leaving you hanging on that one until I have more time to get into the details. Let's just say it's a very exciting and terrifying opportunity.

Tales from the Bronx

If you've been hanging out over here longer than, say, thirty seconds, you know I'm a huge Yankee fan. I'm not one of those fake fans, who used to root for the Mets until they started sucking and the Yanks went on a hot streak. I grew up on Yankees baseball...back when they sucked and you couldn't give away tickets to see the boys in pin stripes play ball.

October may get you football fans pumped and hockey fans are psyched for the beginning of their season. But come October, I look forward to more baseball. Luckily, since my freshman year of college, most years I actually get to see my team play in the post-season.

Although I'm not much of a betting girl, I have two bets going on the outcome of the ALCS and the world series. We're not playing for money. We're playing for blog humiliation. Something like this post from last year.

I've been watching the train wreck that has been the team's play in the post-season biting my nails and having heart failure. It's been a lot like watching the Yanks of my youth. Base running errors that kids in little league wouldn't make. Fielding mistakes. The utter inability to hit the ball. Leaving every runner who actually gets on base stranded there.

And I have to say, if they're going to play like this, the Yankees deserve to lose.

I was at the game Monday night. They didn't just lose. They lost ugly. It was actually more entertaining watching Spike Lee spill beer all over the place and the crazed fan who wanted to confront A-Rod about his relationships.

Actually, he was on to something. Someone SHOULD confront A-Rod. That guy is a fucking bum. I wonder if the Rangers agreed to pay him extra in exchange for him sucking worse than usual. But for the fact that the man was grabbing himself constantly, he wouldn't have fielded a ball well most of the game...

After another disastrous performance on Tuesday, I'm not sure how many people expected the team to survive elimination tonight. But somehow the Yanks rallied, bringing the series to 3-2. Despite the fact that they're playing like the bad news bears, they managed to give the fans a glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak October performance.

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

The mirror was taunting her. The reflection was not, could not, be her own. Weak. Afraid. Chubby. Not good enough. Smart enough. Sexy enough. Nothing.

Once upon a time, he made her stand before the mirror and asked what she saw. She laughed at the stupid question and replied simply, "I see me."

"I don't think you do," he replied quietly. He tugged her hair gently out of its ponytail, letting the curls fall around her shoulders. Then he yanked the blue tank over her head, slid the khaki shorts down her hips.

Again, he made her stare at her reflection. "Tell me what you see." And so she told him. Frizzy hair. Nose she hated, crooked since losing that fight with her sister. Hips. Stomach. Ass. A complaint for almost every inch of her body.

"V, you are beautiful."

She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes or hear his words. His hands stoked her hair, caressed her cheek. "You are beautiful." He repeated.

Tears began to flow freely down her cheeks. His hands ran along every imperfect inch of flesh. Loving caresses, tender kisses. "I have never met another woman so beautiful. No woman more perfect. More perfect for me."

His arms came around her. Positioning himself behind her, he made her face the mirror once more. "Say it."

She shook her head. His mouth planted kisses along her neck, sucked at the spot that made her weak in the knees. Teeth grazed her ear lobe as he again issued his command.

Her mouth remained closed, unable to speak. Hands moved down her hips, over her thighs. "V, look in the mirror. Really see yourself and admit how fucking pretty you are."

Tears still slid down her cheeks. But instead of obscuring her vision, it cleared. V saw herself, not as he saw her, but as she really was. Voice trembling, she looked herself in the eye and admitted the truth.

Finally.

Looking back, it could just be the only good thing he ever did for her...

_______________

I had a great pic of a mirror to go along with this, but Blogger isn't letting me post it... Oh well. Check out some other Magpie tales here.

Dreamwalker

The lights of the city sparkled far below where Danielle stood. From her vantage point on the thirty fifth floor, she could feel the life of the city beneath her. Its hustle and bustle, the sounds, tastes and smells. She could imagine them clearly from inside her gilded cage.

Danielle turned from the windows, heels clacking against the marble floor as she retreated to the bar. The amber liquid warmed her from the inside out. She lost track of the drinks as she tried to drown out the loneliness that threatened to suffocate her. Settling back against the pillows, Danielle smoothed the white satin gown over her thighs and silently prayed for sleep to claim her quickly.

Waves crashed and the sky was alight in brilliant crimson hues as the sun bent to kiss the sea. Wind gently rustled the hem of her dress as the water lapped at her feet. Shoes hung carelessly from her fingertips as Danielle made her way down the shoreline.

Unsure exactly where she was headed, she knew only that she had to follow the trail of hurricane lamps and all would be revealed in time. At the end of the pier, more lamps flickered. Soft music wafted on the air, beckoning her closer. He had chosen this setting for them with great care, an ironic tribute to a vacation they never took when they had the chance.

Her heart skipped a beat as he turned, eyes locking on hers. No matter how much time passed, the sight of him always took her breath away. If it was possible, he looked even better than the last time she had seen him.

He wrapped his arms around her and she sighed blissfully as her head came to rest against its favorite place on his chest. He made no effort to move, neither one of them wanting to break the spell. Finally, she broke off the embrace and allowed him to lead her to their table.

Once seated, his hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. His palm remained against her cheek, cupping her face. "I missed you, beautiful," he whispered.

Somehow he always seemed to know when she needed him most. And it had been too long since they had last been together. Her need for him burned like a raging inferno. The look in his eyes revealed the same feelings simmering just beneath the surface.

There was food and wine on the table, but they remained untouched. No matter how much time had passed, they picked up right where they had left off. In their brief time together, they had been close friends, passionate lovers, their complicated and intense relationship the most defining of her life. After all these years, he remained the one all others were measured against...and all were found wanting.

She never questioned how he was able to visit her like this, but the end always came too soon. She wanted to cry when he stood and reached for her hand. Drawing her against him, their bodies swayed slowly to the music. His lips pressed against hers. The moment was so tender, so perfect, it broke her heart all over again.

Though the words were unnecessary, she whispered, "It's always been you." Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "You've always been the man of my dreams."

Their bodies entwined once more, fervently wishing that this moment would last forever, both knowing that he would be gone again the moment she opened her eyes.

The Hunter

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

The echo of Kristen's boots filled the otherwise quiet hall. A large ornate mirror stood in the middle of the room. She didn't stop to check her appearance nor did she need to. She knew she looked good. Tall leather black boots reached mid-thigh. Shockingly short skirt. Her perfectly toned and tanned stomach was largely exposed by the briefest of bustiers.

She paced impatiently at the end of the hall. Damn it! She thought bitterly. If you don't get here soon, I'm getting started without you!!!

Kristen was too busy fuming at being kept waiting to notice the car pull into the driveway. Suzanne eased herself out of her car, running a nervous hand down her skirt. She checked her reflection in the window, deciding to open one more button on her white blouse. Her blond hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, feet encased in black patent leather shoes.

Suzanne hurried down the garden path. A low fence ran along the rear of the property. In the middle of the fence, obscured by vines of morning glory, was a door. Suzanne threw it open and quickly made her way down the winding staircase.

She gasped when she saw Kristen. The two women stared at each other wordlessly. Kristen was a vision in black. Pure temptation. All seduction. Suzanne, in stark contrast, was all sweetness and innocence in white.

Kristen's sultry gaze swept down Suzanne's body. She spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, "Are you sure you want to do this?" Suzanne nodded. That was all the confirmation Kristen needed.

She strut down the hallway, not bothering to see if Suzanne followed. It was only when her hand grasped the door knob that she stopped to let Suzanne catch up. Kristen threw the door open, allowing it to slam against the wall.

Kevin startled on the bed. His eyes wide as he took in Kristen, the leather get up, the riding crop in her hand. "You?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

Kristen crossed the room to the bed. She ran the crop along Kevin's cheek. He cringed when the leather first touched his face, but Kristen's touch remained gentle.

Just then Suzanne entered the room. "YOU?" Kevin shrieked. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Suzanne slowly made her way toward Kevin. She bit her lip and ran a shaky hand through her hair. Kristen, catching the nervous gestures, rolled her eyes. The riding crop landed on the floor with a loud clatter. Kristen reached Suzanne in two long steps.

She grabbed Suzanne's ponytail, pulling her close. "Just go with it," she whispered in Suzanne's ear. Suzanne's response was silenced when Kristen's mouth closed over hers. She lost herself in the soft lips pressing against hers, the tongue caressing her own, the hands ripping open her blouse, sending buttons flying.

"Suzanne. What. The. Fuck." Kevin croaked.

"Isn't this what you had in mind, lover?" Suzanne teased. "Didn't you say you wanted to spice things up?"
______________
This was the conclusion of the story that began here with the Hunt. The middle piece is here with The Hunted.

The Hunted

Kevin awoke slowly, mind still in a haze. He couldn't pinpoint his surroundings, but suspected the tequila was likely to blame. He stretched luxuriously, but lowering his arms proved impossible. He giggled his arms, cringing at the sound of metal scraping against metal. The noise made his head throb. He shifted, excruciatingly slowly, straining to see above his head.

Kevin found himself confined to be bed, restrained in place with a set of handcuffs at each wrist. Head reeling at the sight, he shifted his gaze down to his feet. Both legs were restrained as well. Testing the limits of his confinement, Kevin could move no more than an inch in either direction.

He worked to clear his cloudy mind so he could assess his current surroundings. He was on a bed, one with an ornate metal headboard. His cuffs were linked to it through a series of curlicues. At least the mattress is soft, he thought for a minute before chastising himself.

He was clearly in danger, despite the plush comforter and inviting silk sheets he lay upon. He forced himself to continue his investigate the small room that held him captive. White walls. No windows. No sounds of passing traffic or sirens, assuring him he was no longer in the city.

Think man! He commanded himself silently. What the hell happened to me tonight? Was it still night? Fuck! Where I am? He started to panic.

The scent of roses and citrus wafted through the air. The tantalizing combination triggered a memory buried deep within his brain, obscured by layers of drug and alcohol fueled haze.

A woman. It was always a woman. But this one... Stunning didn't begin to describe her. Hair dark as night, eyes that sparkled like emeralds. Her voice was music, though he could not recall a single word of the lyrics.

The night slowly began to come back to him in flashes.

The club.
His bitch girlfriend. Ex girlfriend.
Tequila.
Her. Watching him from the dance floor.
Him. Amazed at his luck.
The bartender...

A light bulb went off. The bottle from the top shelf. The strange green drink sparkling in the lights from a tall glass.

The woman again. Moving closer, lips looking so inviting. Even wasted, he didn't have the courage to make a move. She did. Pain shot out when she bit his lip and Kevin could taste his own blood. He had pulled away, hand over his mouth. The woman took his glass, drinking deeply. Then her mouth returned to his, tongue flicking over his wounds.

Within seconds his body had gone completely numb. Strong hands caught him before he fell. Carried him to a car, where he promptly lost consciousness.

Kevin's heart began to race when he heard the footsteps in the hall. They stopped outside his door. There was only one of them if the shadows under the door were any indication. The door knob slowly began to turn.

Friend or foe?
Danger or salvation?

Kevin tried to swallow back the fear, as he waited to see what lurked behind the door.

_______________
This was part two of the story that began here. I'll finish it up on Friday. (Shocking, right? Three posts from me in the same week)

The Hunt

She stood before the full length mirror, her critical eye searching for any imperfection. Her hair had been brushed to a high sheen, falling down her back like waves of black silk. Her reflection stared back at her with smokey, sultry eyes. She pursed her ruby lips and surveyed her closet again.

A manicured hand ran down a flirty black dress and a sexy blue number that plunged nearly to her navel. Finally, she withdrew an ivory sheath which hugged her curves nicely. She slipped her feet into towering heels and fastened a glistening diamond around her neck.

Satisfied with her image at last, she set out. She moved with purpose, her gait a seductive prowl. She relished the stares when she entered the crowded room. The bass pounded as she made her way to the bar.

The bartender smiled knowingly in her direction. Without being asked, he set a shot glass on the bar as she approached. She knocked it back, barely breaking stride. From her vantage point in the center of the dance floor, she had an excellent view of the place and everyone in it. While she rolled her hips and swayed to the music, she continued her hunt.

There!

Her mark was a reasonably handsome man, seated alone at the end of the bar. She wouldn't take the time to learn his name or why he was there alone. Such details were irrelevant anyway...

(His name was Kevin and his girlfriend had just left him. Despite being on deadline, he thought it was the perfect time to drown his sorrows in a bottle of tequila.) Kevin couldn't believe his luck when he noticed the most beautiful woman in the room staring at him. He gave her a shy smile and quickly looked away.

When he looked up, she was making her way toward him. Her arm brushed against his as she leaned over the bar to catch the bartender's attention. Kevin didn't notice as her eyes connected with the bartender's or how the bartender nodded in approval when her gaze slid back over to Kevin. The bartender pulled a bottle from the top shelf, pouring them each an extra large shot.

Kevin stared at the liquid, lime green and sparkling in the neon lights. He watched as the mysterious woman - Kristen, the bartender had called her - knocked back her drink. Kevin sipped at his tentatively, trying to discern the mystery drink.

Kristen sidled closer as he drank. She snaked her arms around Kevin's neck, smelling of rose and citrus. Her face inched closer to his. They were so close, he could almost taste the crimson lips looming before him. As she pressed her body against his, the fragrant floral bouquet of her perfume enveloped him. That was the last thing Kevin remembered before his world went black...

Roof Top Escape

This was my spot. I found it by accident and wasn’t sharing its location with anyone. I’d come here if I wanted to be alone. If the noise of the house was getting to me. If I needed to think. To get away. Tonight I needed this place for all those reasons.


I spread my blanket down on the roof, removed the stilettos from my aching feet and lay down, not caring that I would probably ruin my dress in the process. I had 2 hours before the dance and I needed every second of it to pull myself together.

I stared up at the stars, arms stretched back behind my head. I don't know how long I lay there, still and quiet in the dark, my thoughts racing through my head. Far below me, the pre-gaming had begun, evidenced by the blasting music and the potent mix of perfume, alcohol and smoke wafting up to the roof.

My date would be here soon. John was a nice enough guy. After the drama of my last boyfriend, he was a logical choice. They were polar opposites, with John representing a desperately needed change. But there was something missing. And that something was what really brought me to the roof that night.

Footsteps interrupted my thoughts, startling me back to reality. I didn't need to turn around to investigate who intruded upon my solitude. I knew exactly who had escaped to my roof. Rolling onto my side, I gratefully accepted the red plastic cup from his hands. While I chugged its contents, Eric lay next to me quietly on the blanket, idly rubbing my leg.

I didn't have to say "It should be us." He was thinking it too.

I lay in his arms, head resting in its favorite place on his shoulder while his fingers wound their way through my curls. When we were together like this, the rest of the world ceased to exist. And in those perfect moments, I could stop searching because I had finally found what I'd always been looking for.

Ric and I only had those stolen moments. Our time on the rooftop was far too brief before we had to climb the stairs back down to the house, back to our separate realities.

________________
This week's Theme Thursday theme was "stretch." And, yes, it was a bit of a stretch working that one into this story :)

Revealed

Susan set foot on the unfamiliar campus, looking around nervously. She drew the collar of her coat closer against the chill. The leaves had turned brilliant crimson and gold, but she hardly noticed.

The events that led her to be here were set in motion seven months ago. It all began with a comment she made on a blog. He saw the comment while leaving his own. Something about it made him reach out to her.

She was more than surprised that a total stranger would not only read the comment, a very personal comment made on someone else's blog, and then email her about it. She read his email a couple times, not sure whether - or how - to respond. Eventually she did. A simple email back.

They soon began reading each other's blogs. Emailing. Occasionally IMing if they were online at the same time. Their conversations became deeper, more personal. More flirtatious.

She wasn't entirely sure how the joke started. He was having a bad day. She was trying to cheer him up. Told him if he didn't snap out of it, she was going to have head down to his campus and force him into a better mood. She described exactly what she'd be wearing - fishnets, hooker boots, a trench coat and a smile.

So it became their joke. Whenever he was in a particularly bad mood, she'd threaten to break out the fishnets. If nothing else, it made him laugh. And growl. She loved it when he growled.

Susan now found herself wandering around this strange place, light-years away from her home and normal life. Again, she adjusted the collar of her trench, wondering whether she should just get back in her car.

They had never met. Had only spoken on the phone once. And who knows how old or how photoshopped the pictures on their respective blogs were. Doubt had begun to creep in and take hold.

What if he didn't like the way she looked? What if he thought it was ridiculous that she had come all this way to see him? What if their meeting didn't go over well? Shit, what if he wasn't even here?

Her blackberry vibrated in her pocket just then. A message from him. One which had her throw caution to the wind. She straightened her shoulders, the heels of her tall black boots clacking against the floors as she made her way to his office.

Her hand froze for just a second on the door knob, hearing his voice inside. Heart pounding, she threw open the door, revealing herself at last...

______________________

This week's theme was "reveal."

Got Porn?

Admit it. You're reading this post because of the title. I originally intended this to be my place to vent...but my day, and therefore this post, have taken a different turn.

It was one of those days - the kind where instantly you know that you never should have gotten out of bed. The kind where you would happily pay for a mulligan. Seriously. By 9 a.m., I was begging for a do-over.

I won't bore you with all the details. If you follow me on Twitter, you've heard it all anyway. But it was just an all around sucky everyone dump on Jaime kind of day.

I'm not good with technology... The extent of my being able to describe a problem is usually "IT'S JUST NOT WORKING, DAMN IT! FIX THE THING!" So I describe the issue to my IT department like this, "I was trying to google the ABA awards of achievement, clicked on the link and it brought me to Netflix. I was searching on the Virginia Department of State page, clicked to view their tax guide and they apparently thought that I needed to go back to school, because I was brought to an online learning site. FIX IT!"

So with two clicks of the mouse, my computer is suddenly flooded with pop ups. Then the computer shuts itself down and when it boots back up, lo and behold, my computer is FULL of porn. There are pictures. There are short cuts to every porn site you can think of, and quite a few you probably didn't know existed. I had hot tub porn. I had ethnic porn. I had... well, let's just say I had all kinds of crazy shit all over my computer.

It managed to break my damn computer. Completely inoperable. (And yes, that means I couldn't check out any of the porn, even if I wanted to do so from the office.) So I lost a ton of billable time, when I had to get out a motion, two contracts and an article my editor tried to throw at me at the last second along with dumping the next edition on me - all the prep - the schedule, articles and assignments with no guidance whatsoever.

Within an hour, everyone in the office has heard what happened to my computer and EVERYONE is harassing me about using my office computer to cruise for porn during work hours. Tired of the abuse, I stomp out of the office and head to the gym early.

I spend 30 punishing minutes on the elliptical. I'm barely listening to the tv in front of me, still seething about my crappy day, until I hear the news talking about a two year old who got run over by a car in a hit and run accident in the City. The next story features a grieving widow whose husband died to save her life and the life of their unborn child. A car hoped the median and was about to plow into her side of the car. The husband turned their car around so his side got hit and the impact killed him instantly. But she and their baby survived. And she was on the news talking about how she wished she had one more moment with him so she could tell him how much she loved him.

Suddenly all my problems seemed a whole lot less important.

I spent the next 50 minutes boxing. By the end of my session, I no longer cared about my crappy day. I felt great, despite the fact that my arms were already starting to feel the next day's soreness. All I could think about was getting home and seeing my boys.

So when I stepped out of car and the sky completely opened up and I got drenched in a torrential downpour, it probably was the perfect thing to top off my imperfect day. But I didn't let it piss me off. I ran up the sidewalk to my front door laughing.

Tomorrow has to be better, right?

Reason

Even half asleep, she heard his call. "I want you, mommy." She smiled sleepily, dragging herself from the bed. He heard her on the stairs and stopped sniffling. "Mommy," he sighed, delirious himself. She stretched out her hand. He sprung from the couch, lacing his fingers through hers. Hand in hand they climbed the stairs.

Her little boy smiled up at her with the special smile reserved just for her. He practically jumped into her bed and curled up next to her. One arm around his bear, the other thrown carelessly around her neck. A content sign escaped his lips as he quickly drifted off to sleep.

She wrapped both arms around him, drawing him closer. In his sleep, his tiny fingers opened to mesh with hers. She watched him sleep for a few minutes, again marveling at the amazing little boy in her arms.

There was no logic. No reason. Just love. Pure and simple.

- - - - -

She sensed him enter the crowded room long before seeing him. His magnetic pull drew her to him. He whispered her name, the tone thick with longing.

She smiled up at him, marveling that no matter how much things had changed, they alone remained the same. She held out a manicured hand to him. Their fingers meshed together. Hand in hand they traversed the lobby to the elevators.

Her fingers shook as they slid the key into the lock. As the door gave way, so did their inhibitions. His lips pressed against hers as minutes faded to hours in a delicious blur.

They lay on top of the crumpled sheets, still breathless and tangled together. She wrapped her arms around him, trying to draw him even closer. She nuzzled against his neck, kissing him softly.

Lost in the moment, she lazily traced the gold band on his finger. Just for a minute, her own ring and vows forgotten as she watched him sleep, marveling at the amazing man in her arms.

There was no logic. No reason. Just love. Pure...and anything but simple.

___________

Check out other Theme Thursday posts here.

Remember

Deep within the thicket of green
Sits a cottage in white.
We stumbled over the place once.
When the skies grew dark with pouring rain and whipping wind.

The doors were unlocked.

Inside we sought shelter from the storm
We found the fire already roaring
Two glasses of wine already poured

It was if someone set the stage just for us

Giggling like children, we tore at each other's wet clothes.
Your lips found mine, warm and inviting.
A tangle of limbs
My port in the storm

Years have passed

I still remember
The thicket
The little white cottage
The night in the storm

I still remember...
Do you?

____________
Check out other Magpie Tales here.

Random

I feel like I've done nothing but write lately. Believe it or not, I actually wrote three posts last week. None of them for this blog, of course. If you want to hear about things that shouldn't be spoken, check out this post. If you want to hear about the joys of potty training (yeah, who wants to hear that), check out this post. And if you want to see more random, I did a guest post for the fabulous Ms. Salti, which she's running on Tuesday.

Since I'm tired of writing, I'll let these pics do most of the talking...



Yeah... It's really the jackhammers this woman needs to worry about...

I wish I could do stuff like this. Too bad my job is to protect people from their own stupidity rather than to highlight it.


Sometimes there are just no words...



Show of hands... who the hell is going to spend money buying THIS contraption???

Try to Forget

She sank back against the white porcelain. Hot water lapped against her chest. She added a handful of perfumed beads to the steaming water and bubbles quickly filled the tub.

Soft music played from her iPod. Her kindle, loaded with a new book from her favorite author, lay forgotten on the ledge. Instead, she opted for the glass of wine, savoring the tart merlot as it flooded her mouth and dulled her senses.

Long days, spent trying to solve other people's problems. The nights were longer as she tried to ignore her own. The house was finally quiet...only the sounds of snoring could be heard from the bedrooms and the gentle lapping of water against her flesh.

Sad.
Lonely.
Angry.
Hurt.

She closed her eyes, slipping beneath the surface, allowing herself for a moment to just forget.

____________
Check out more Magpie tales... And on that note, I'm finally going to sleep.

The Fortune Teller

I shouldn't be in the waiting room. The whole place just radiated a creepy vibe that I couldn't shake. Madame Nuri was a fortune teller who specialized in Tarot. Her shop smelled so strongly of incense, it made your head spin. Why the girls wanted to come here as part of the bachelorette celebration, I couldn't understood.

The beaded curtain (who has beaded curtains anymore?) rustled when the gypsy entered the room. She beckoned to us. Giggling and teetering drunkenly on her heels, Meghan, our bride-to-be surged forward. Madame spotted an easy mark and grinned wickedly, dollar signs in her eyes. The rest of the girls eagerly followed through the curtain to the back room.

I hung back at the entrance to the room, not wanting to draw the gypsy's attention. She began with an overly dramatic explanation of Tarot cards. Madame Nuri settled Meghan into a chair and began to read our future bride's fortune. The tale was a perfect con: the promise of a brilliant future, love, happiness, but a dark cloud on the horizon. Shadows of doubt hung over their future. For a special bargain price, she could book additional sessions to further explore the secrets of the universe.

Meghan was all too eager to turn over her AmEx, paying for ten sessions in advance. The other girls soon followed suit. For each of them, the gypsy's performance was stage-worthy. Their fortunes foretold almost exactly what they wanted to hear, but - for an additional fee, of course - they could delve into the darkness threatening to block out the light of their future happiness.

Through it all, I fought to remain quiet and not expose the gypsy for a fraud. But I couldn't hold back the snickers when the gypsy proclaimed Grace would be a hugely successful ballerina. Grace is the clumsiest of our group. She also lacks the athletic ability or body type necessary for ballet.

Don't think me bitchy. I know about these things. Many years ago, I had been a prima ballerina. A star of the stage, performing for royal families across the world. It was a Russian Czar who was ultimately my downfall, leading to the cursed existence I lead today. But we'll get to that later.

The gypsy turned on me, eyes blazing. Staring back at her black eyes, which widened with sudden understanding, I knew I had underestimated this woman. I took her for nothing more than a con, but she clearly had the talent.

"Old woman, if you want to survive this night, say nothing." I commanded silently. She inclined her head slightly, presumably in agreement. I didn't want to kill the gypsy, but preserving my secret was paramount if I wanted to stay in this city...

The gypsy motion for me to sit at her table. I had no interest in her reading my cards. "Watch yourself, gypsy." I cautioned wordlessly. Her face revealed nothing as she turned the cards. I knew enough about Tarot to see each card was worse than the next, revealing darkness, sorrow and death.

Instead of reading the cards, Madame reached for my hand. Turning it over, she began to examine my palm. "This here is your lifeline. You are destined to live to a very old age." Her eyes met mine briefly before returning to my hand. "But this, your love line, is short and broken. It seems you will be alone for much of your long life. You will have riches and fame, but love eludes you. You shall spend your time in the company of men - hmm...many men, it appears - and while they will give you pleasures of the flesh, their hearts remain their own."

My eyes hardened and I was about to issue another warning to the gypsy when she pushed back from the table. "A long life, alone?" I chided. "What kind of fortune is that?"

Madame Nuri lowered her voice so no one else could hear. "Yours, my child. What other future would a succubus have for the rest of eternity?"

the one where i bitch...

So I've been home for a whopping hour and a half... We just got back from Vegas. What a miserable fucking trip. Not the entire trip. But today was a nightmare.

It wasn't just because my lovely dizzy issues were flaring up and, really, who the hell wants to be on an airplane when they're lightheaded?

My son LOVES my mother. It's really great how close they are. Of course, when Nana is around, the rest of the world pretty much ceases to exist. He only wants to be around her. And if she has the audacity to leave the room for any length of time, he tends to go ballistic.

So in the airport, my parents hop on the plane the second they announce first class can board. Andrew went absolutely nuts. He was sobbing hysterically. Totally inconsolable. You literally could hear him across the terminal.

But regardless of how upset he was, I knew he'd be fine once we got him onto the plane. We'd turn on the portable DVD player (WISEST INVESTMENT EVER!), distract him with some cookies and he'd be fine.

But as we're trying to board the airplane, we get pulled out of line. "Is he going to be okay to fly?"

What kind of a stupid ass question is that?

But even though I told her - in great detail - that Andrew would be fine once we got to the seats, that apparently wasn't good enough. I then got dragged off the plane where I was interrogated by eight fucking people about whether I would be able to control my kid. And I was told in no uncertain terms that if I couldn't control my kid, we wouldn't be able to fly.

Give me a fucking break.

Yes, it's embarrassing as hell when you're out in public and your kid is the screaming baby. It's stressful. It sucks.

But I've been on tons of flights were kids screamed from one coast to another... We didn't have to divert and land somewhere to kick the offending child off the plane. I have NEVER seen them pull the mom off the plane to make her feel inept because her kid was upset.

By the time I got back to my seat, Andrew was fine...happily engrossed in "Toy Story" just as I knew he would be. Me on the other hand? I was the miserable one.

Tears slid freely down my cheeks as I replayed the conversation in my head... as I thought of all the things I could have said, wanted to say, but I had held my tongue instead. The things I wanted to say probably would have gotten me arrested...

Not exactly a great trip back... home sweet fucking home.

Another Day, Another Test

Yeah... I'm on a bar exam kick. It's my way of commiserating with the people who are taking the bar right now. And you're actually getting a couple personal posts out of me, so deal with it.

Today is the MBE, which is the full day of multiple choice torture. I suck at multiple choice tests. I went into the essay days of the bar hoping to knock one out of the park. I went into the multiple choice portion praying that I didn't completely bomb it. The truth about the MBE is that everyone thinks they failed it. If you walk out of the room feeling good about the test, you're a freak. And you probably failed.

But there's nothing fun about multiple choice.

Instead, I'll tell you the debacle which was the Maine bar. The first problem was that I took the test while working and taking the test just wasn't working for me. I was originally supposed to take it in February. But a month before the bar, things got insane in the courthouse.

Our big boat explosion case was going to trial and the pre-trial motions literally arrived in boxes. THREE BOXES to be exact. Not just little boxes either. Those huge ass plastic totes that you'd send your kid off to college in. As if that wasn't bad enough, our big construction case reached the summary judgment stage and those motions piled up four feet high on my floor. AND our class action got returned from the Appellate Division (again...for the third time) so we finally had to 1) locate, 2) read and 3) decide motions which occupied another couple boxes.

Fortunately, Maine lets you defer your testing once without having to reapply and pay your fees all over again. So hubby (before he was hubby) took the bar in February and I took it in July. The night before the test, I told his mom that we had to drive the route to the testing center together so I wouldn't get lost either heading there or back. She showed me how to get there and then pointed out the way home without actually driving the route with me. (You're all smart readers...You see where this is going...)

Maine is a little different from other states. (Shocking, right?) Instead of having 4 essays in the morning and 4 in the afternoon, you get 2 at a time with 90 minutes to complete them. The first 2 are the state specific stuff. The first question is all short answer, but your answer isn't complete unless you cite to the appropriate rule. (They give you a rule book to aid with the torture).

So I'm cruising along the 35 short answers. I knew all the answers but I couldn't find the right rule. I had 3 questions left when the announcer said, "You now have 10 minutes to complete this section of the exam."

Oh FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

I hadn't even looked at the second question. I threw down random rule numbers next to my answers, knowing they were wrong and scanned the second essay. It probably required a good 30 minutes of writing to fully analyze. I had five. Max.

I quickly abandoned the idea of writing out the essay in long form, following the rule of last resort - write the first and last paragraphs and outline the middle. My hand was cramped and aching when they called time.

Making matters worse, the next two questions tested all my worst subjects... negotiable instruments and tax. (I won't bore you with the questions. But one tested something that was fully addressed in 1 line of the prep outline. And tax? I hadn't studied it. They took it off the exam in February and I hadn't realized they brought it back for the July test.)

I literally finished the two essay questions in 20 minutes. Then I sat there miserably for the next 70 minutes KNOWING with every fiber of my being that I had failed. With five minutes to go, the magical words "holder in due course" popped into my head. I had no damn idea if they even applied to the question, but I furiously scribbled a few lines into the essay about holders, hoping that would save my ass somehow.

The rest of the exam passed without incident. I almost left at lunch and called it quits, but where would I go? Hubby's mom was at work and I had no way of getting into the house. So I toughed it out and happily raced to my car when I was done.

I got SO lost on my way back to her house. I missed my turn off. I had no idea that Portland was that big, but I think I covered every inch of it that night. As exhaustion started overtaking me, I contemplated pulling over and sleeping on the side of the road. Except I had no idea where I was - so how the hell would I get back to the testing center in the morning. I started running traffic lights, hoping a cop would pull me over so I could ask for directions...

No luck.

But eventually, I did find my way back thanks to the long distance directions given to me by hubby. I was happy to return to Jersey, where I forgot about the exam and how miserably I did on it until the day the envelope arrived in the mail.

Sometimes small envelopes are good - it's just the letter telling you the date of your swearing in. Sometimes small envelopes are bad - no more than the notification that you suck and failed. I didn't want to open mine.

It was big. Big had to mean I failed and these were the materials I needed to fill out to reapply to take the test. With shaking hands, I opened the envelope. My eyes struggled to focus on the words...For a second, I was so delirious, I thought it said "Congratulations." Immediately, I handed the letter to hubby and forced him to tell me what it said.

I still think they made a mistake... No one demand a recount, okay?

Day One

Seven years ago today I set foot into the Marriott, armed with nothing more than a gallon sized plastic baggie and whatever knowledge I could cram into my head over the past two months. I got there early. Almost an hour ahead of time, just to assure myself I wouldn't be late. The second I entered the building, I was horrified at what I saw. Hundreds of people were sprawled everywhere. And each of them were panic-stricken, doing the last second cram. I immediately turned on my heel and ran back to the car.

I tried to put the sight out of my head as I blasted my favorite tunes. The panic had been so palpable it seized me in its iron grasp. It took every one of the fifty minutes in my car for my heart rate and breathing to go back to normal.

That sense of calm confidence lasted as long as it took to reach my assigned seat. The girl next to me was still cramming, hyperventilating and driving us both to hysteria. "Hey! What are you getting so worked up for," I asked quietly.

"This is the BAR exam. It's like the most important test of our LIVES." (Yeah...no shit)

I pointed out all the empty seats, people who were too scared to even show up. There'd be even more empty seats after lunch, when people gave up and gave in to the pressure. Even more the next day. You know this shit. You've been studying all summer for it. I was speaking to myself as much, if not more, than I was talking to her. But it worked.

When the announcer said "you may now begin the new york 2003 bar exam" I couldn't open my test book. I was too distracted by the stampede of people bombing up to the front of the room, hands over their mouths, as they hoped to reach the bathroom before losing their breakfast in the testing room.

The girl next to me giggled. I winked. And so it began.

New york begins their test with 50 multiple choice questions on all the state specific stuff. I literally didn't know the answer to any question. I guessed on each of the questions. I had to leave the room after that to quell the panic threatening to overtake common sense. I went to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. While I was in there, three more people dashed to the stalls and began retching violently.

As I watched the last girl puke on her shoes, I smiled. I was so much better off than these guys. I returned to the room and tackled the essays. I was the only person done ahead of time.

I tossed my nine blue books at the proctor and dragged my ass to the door. As my hand reached the handle, the announcer informed us that there were 10 minutes left and no one could leave the room for any reason until the exam was done. I quickly checked over my shoulder to ensure I was okay to leave. I got the nod and ran to my car. A number of taxi drivers told me I was the first to leave and that was a good sign. One guy told me the first one out always passed.

I was so delirious with stress, exhaustion and exhilaration, I hugged the guy. Then I jumped in my car and began the long trek back to central Jersey where day 2 of the test would take place.
My phone rang off the hook with friends who were also taking the exam. I refused to answer. I didn't want to know what they thought. I didn't want to run down the likelihood that question 3 was really a torts question, not contracts like I wrote on.

When I reached my hotel I was so tired, I couldn't even give them my name. The guy looked at me and merely said, "Bar exam?" I nodded, handing him my license and credit card.

"Bed?"

He somehow suppressed his laughter. At that and the fact that I asked for five wake up calls in the morning.

I stumbled into bed and never slept so well in my life.

The Bed

It loomed large
The focal point of the room
Plush and inviting

Silk sheets
Plump pillows
Naked flesh

She sighed
Not content, frustrated
Wondering, yet again, how she got here

Laying in this oasis of luxury
She never felt more lonely...
...while she was not alone.

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This was a Magpie Tale. I don't typically do poetry and I don't do rhyming... So be gentle. ;)

The Bar (Not the fun kind)

This time of year, my thoughts always turn to the bar. To all of the law school graduates who are freaking out right now doing the last minute cram with one week to go. The good news is that no matter how bad you think it is right now, it'll all be over soon...and the further away from it you get, the harder it is to remember. In a few years, this whole summer will be a blur.

You graduate from law school. It's an amazing moment having them put the doctorite hood over your head and walking the stage. For me, it was extra special. My dad was the first graduate of the law school... I was the first graduate of my class. And my sister was starting law school in the fall, where she would be the first graduate of her class. The school's alum magazine had done this whole article on us as three generations of Frank's grads.

So, we're all riding high from graduation. We go to this party that my 3 closest friends and I were throwing for our families. But as soon as that was done, we had to get to work. We had an apartment to pack and, the day after graduation, hubby (before he was actually hubby) and I were moving down to Jersey. Unfortunately, on the ride down, hubby got the bad news that his uncle died. In Canada. And the funeral was going to be the next day.

At the crack of dawn, I drive them to the airport where we realize hubby has his birth certificate, but his dad didn't. They ended up flying to Buffalo, renting a car and driving across the border. That left me to deal with unpacking.

Four short days later, bar review started. (They don't give you much time to recover) We were both taking the NY and NJ bars. Fortunately, NJ only tested the six multi-state subjects with no state specific distinctions. (Okay...for all the non-lawyers in the crowd, the multi-state is the multiple choice portion of the bar. One full day - 6 hours - of questions on torts, contracts, property, constitutional law, criminal law and procedure and evidence.) New York was another story all together. They tested like 23 topics, most of which I never studied in law school and you had to know all the NY specific law. (Bastards)

Our bar review was conducted in the espelande motel...which was so sketchy and in such disrepair that it no longer exists...but we trudged into the first day, trying to calm the panic rising to epic levels inside each of us, as we lugged every review book on the topic of contracts into the conference room.

Here's the truth. I worked my ass off that summer. I freaked out every day. But beyond going to every lecture and dutifully taking notes, I couldn't bring myself to study when I got home. I didn't read the outlines. I didn't supplement my lecture notes. I didn't make flash cards.

Suddenly, it was the beginning of July and I hadn't opened a freaking book. That was when panic truly set in for me. I went nuts with my studying. I started reading every outline. I made thousands of flashcards. I studied until my eyes went bleary and I couldn't take it anymore.

Part of the frustration with the bar is that you realize very quickly how much you didn't learn in law school... You seriously learn everything you need to know for the most important test of your life in 2 months and the $2,000-5,000 in prep materials. Law school may teach you to think, write and reason like a lawyer. But all you need for the bar is a good prep class.

I took two bar review classes. My second class started up 2 weeks before the bar. It was specific to the multi-state and featured a simulated test. I TANKED it. I mean, seriously embarrassingly low. I'm bad at multiple choice questions to begin with, but this was...well, no chance my essay scores would help me to pass if I did that badly on the real thing. But then an amazing thing happened.

With a week to go, everything started to click. And I accepted I was never going to learn everything... I played the odds. Wills and trusts never made sense to me. So I just learned what made them valid and what made them invalid, hoping that would be what they asked...

The night before the exam, I was nervous. About whether I could find the test center without getting lost. About whether I could drag my ass out of bed on time.

But the test itself? That I was finally ready for...

Victoria's Bell

The bell clanged loudly in the distance. "Grandma, why does the bell ring five times every day at this time?" She smiled down at little Timmy. Tucking him in for bed, she muttered, "I don't even want to think about what they're not teaching you in school." Then she perched on the end of the bed and began to tell the story of Victoria's bell.

Years ago, Victoria was engaged to marry a duke. His title was not what drew her to him, for when they first met, he was just Jeffrey. A sweet man, one who stood in stark contrast to lovers past. Jeffrey was kind where there had been hostility; gentle where there had been abuse. He would always be there, always support her. Jeffrey was a good man but...harmless and vanilla. Though Victoria loved him, there was always something missing. She didn't even realize it until the night she met Edward.

It was the night of the Summer Ball. Jeffrey twirled her around the dance floor, when she first saw him. Incredibly handsome, despite his brooding. He raised his hand to his lips and took a long drag off a cigarette. Victoria continued the dance, but was captivated by the man across the room.

When the dance ended, she spotted him leaving the room. Victoria quickly slipped away, through the same doors and out onto that balcony. Edward stood in the shadows, smoking yet another cigarette. Victoria watched for a moment before going to him.

The details of that conversation, of that first interlude have been lost in the passage of time. But those few stolen moments on the balcony set in motion a chain of events which would alter all their lives.

Victoria began seeing Edward in secret. As nightfall approached each evening, her pulse quickened in anticipation. She slipped away in the darkness, eager to find herself again in his arms. He was nothing like Jeffrey. While that was, of course, part of the appeal, there was so much more. Victoria felt smothered in her life and Edward provided a breath of fresh air. With him, she never had to pretend. With him, she was herself. Her best self. And still wanted to be so much more for him.

The daylight hours were consumed with memories of their moments together. She had memorized the feel of his lips pressed against hers, the caress of his fingers, the warmth of his embrace. It wasn't just that he made her feel so alive and with him she experienced greater passion than she'd ever known. He saw her better than anyone, knew her better than she knew herself. He was her match - a fact which both delighted and terrified Victoria.

She never told Edward how she felt, afraid that it would ruin what they had together. Victoria lay next to him, her head on his shoulder, marveling at how well they fit together. He stroked her hair lovingly and pressed his lips against her temple. Once again, the words were on the tip of her tongue and, despite the intimacy of the moment, she still questioned whether his feelings matched her own.

She kissed his neck tenderly and blissfully drifted to sleep in his arms. When Victoria opened her eyes, sun streamed through the windows and she was alone. To her left, there was a tall vase on her nightstand full of roses. Jeffrey, she thought. To her right, was a small cream envelope where Edward's head should have laid on the pillow next to her. Victoria slipped the note from its envelope. Edward.

Victoria's heart pounded as she read his words. He loved her and wanted Victoria to run away with him. If she accepted, she should meet him at the old bell tower at 8:00. Victoria was hardly able to believe his words, but when she found the silver band nestled at the bottom of the envelope, she couldn't believe her eyes.

The day seemed endless, each hour feeling days long. Finally, Victoria stood in the bell tower at the appointed time. She had rung the bell exactly five times when Jeffrey stormed through the doors. "He's not coming," Jeffrey spat. Victoria sank to the floor, her slim frame wracked with sobs. Her fingers gripped the silver band inside her pocket. In that moment, her whole life - the life that could have been with Edward - flashed before her eyes. Their marriage. Kids. The passion. The intense friendship. And most of all, a love so deep that it would have transcended time, distance, any obstacle.

Victoria never learned what kept Edward from her that night. Part of her always hoped that the bond they shared would lead them back together again one day. Victoria never stopped loving Edward and not a day went by that she didn't wonder what if...

Their story was a tragic romance for the ages. Two victims of poor timing or fate's cruelty. Whatever you called it, Victoria's Bell still clangs every night at 8:00 exactly five times to remind us not to let one day go by without telling the ones we love how we feel.

When the tale was done, Timmy looked up at his grandma and whispered, "I love you." She kissed him on the top of his head, stroking his hair lovingly. Then she left the room so Timmy would not see the tears slide down her cheeks.

She reached into the back of her desk drawer and removed a tiny package. With trembling hands, she carefully unwrapped the white tissue and ran her fingers along the silver band. Sliding it onto her ring finger, where it belonged, she whispered the words she could never say when she had the chance.

I love you.

just when i was wondering what the heck to write about...

Given the relative infrequency with which I write these days, you may not have known that I've been away. In California. For the past five days.

My mom decided that I needed a real vacation (read: without the little guy) and thought it'd be a nice treat for hubby and I to go away for our anniversary. We just got back last night and jet lag is screwing with me big time. I'm not sure whether to think it's 6 or 9, but it feels like at least 12...

I spent my day dealing with morons who seemed even more idiotic after 5 days of baking my brain with sun and alcohol. I have a stack of work to do, discovery to propound, briefs to write and other stuff that you couldn't pay me enough to look at right now. So instead, I've been trying to catch up on my blog reading and, if Blogger has been feeling cooperative, commenting.

Jen tagged me to answer some truly thought provoking questions. I'm sure she (and the rest of you) are just DYING for the answers. So I won't hold you in suspense any longer. Without further ado...


1. If you could be any fried food, what would you choose?

Well... everything is better dipped in batter and deep fried, right? But I guess I'd have to choose chicken. Since everything else tastes like chicken. Might as well be the original.

2. How come my son can't wipe his own butt at age almost seven?

I sure as hell can't answer this one! My son is two and a half. He steadfastly insists that he "don't need the potty" and rumor has it he's been coerced into using the potty for all of 3 drops at daycare.

But if I have to guess... He's either lazy or knows you'll do it for him?

3. What song makes you suicidal? (for me it's anything by KidzBop)

Anything sung by that awful purple dinosaur... I'd rather listen to the Wiggles all day than Barney.

4. What would you be when you grow up if you were an actual grown up when it was time to decide?

Other than a brief interlude when I wanted to be a ballerina (I'm too short and too busty for that career choice), I've always wanted to be a lawyer. Kind of cool that I have the job I always wanted. Of course, I thought I wanted to do criminal defense and am very happy to avoid that end of the office now. I'm firmly entrenched in the world of corporate litigation.

But if I ever decide not to be a lawyer anymore, it'd be to write. (Yup, I still think about that in all my non-existent free time.)

5. You have a whistle. What do you do?

Put my lips together and blow, of course.


So now I'm supposed to tag a bunch of you guys and ask some questions for you to answer on your own blog.

For this, I'm tagging

Ms. Salti
Mistress Auri
Sarcastically Bitter
Red Shoes
Mr. Condescending

And their questions will be:

1. If you could be any animal, which would you be and why?

2. If you could go anywhere in the world (on someone else's dime, of course), where would you go?

3. You've stumbled over a time machine. Would you go back in time or visit the future?

4. What's your favorite book? (Yup, I'm assuming you read actual books, Mr. C)

5. Everyone has a stupid human trick... (I can touch my tongue to my nose) What's yours?