Train Me Page 3

  I huffed at her. “Follow your lead? Christ, Tiff, you messaged me all the time when I was at school about the various partners you were screwing. If I follow your lead, there’s no telling what kind of trouble I’ll get into.”

  “Abbie, you have got to grow up,” she said, poking a stiff finger to my forehead. “This is the real world. People fuck all the time. Maybe if you tried it once in a while you’d find that you like it as much as I do.”

  “I have tried it,” I said defensively. “So far, I’m unimpressed.”

  “That just means you aren’t fucking the right men,” she said, giggling again. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you out of trouble. You’re gonna do great.”

  “I hope so,” I said. A vomit-flavored burp bubbled into my throat. I pressed my fingers to my lips and tried to force it back down.

  “Okay, I’m going to get dressed,” she said, going to the door. “We have to leave in thirty minutes.”

  “Okay, I’ll be ready,” I said. The burp came back up, this time followed by enough actual vomit to make me wince.

  Tiff smiled and waved a hand at me. “Go puke now so I can have the bathroom. I’ll need to do my makeup after I get dressed.”

  I gave her a weak nod as she bounced out of the room, then covered my mouth with a shaking hand and ran toward the bathroom. My first day as a lawyer was not starting out anything like I had planned.

  Tiffany and I left our little apartment with no time to spare. We had to run to catch the subway downtown. By the time we stepped off the subway train and climbed the steps to the street above, I was a nervous wreck. Tiffany was totally calm and cool. She’d been doing this for a year and assured me that soon it would all be routine to me, as well. I seriously doubted that. I was a shy, small-town girl who had somehow managed to graduate with honors from Harvard Law School. I was in the top two percent of my class and had multiple offers to join firms in New York, Philadelphia, Chicago, and a dozen other cities. I chose Collins Bangham & Goode because they were one of the top firms in the country, but mainly because my friend Tiffany had joined the firm the year before. Tiff and I were inseparable all through high school, college, and law school. We planned to one day open our own firm, but that was still light years away.

  To be perfectly honest, I was terrified of moving to and living in New York, but Tiff promised me we would have the time of our lives living and working together. Now that I was here I wondered if I had made a mistake. I had never ridden the subway or had a food cart hot dog or watched a bum pee in the street or seen so many people in my life. I was afraid to talk to anybody and avoided looking anyone in the eye. I was a little like Alice in Wonderland. I had been dropped in a magical place that would either make me blossom and grow or eat me alive.

  I realized that I was clutching Tiff’s sleeve as we walked from the subway station to the high rise where CBG occupied the top five floors.

  Tiff stopped outside the building and turned to put her hands on my shoulders. She pressed her forehead to mine and stared into my eyes. She gave me a comforting smile, as if I were a nervous child on the first day of school. She asked, “You okay now? Get all that nice vomit out of your system?”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “Yes, mommy, I think I’m completely empty now, thank you.” My hollow stomach growled as if to drive the point home. I glanced up at the massive building before us. “God, Tiff, what if I fuck this up?”

  “How could you fuck this up?” she asked, digging through her purse. She came out with a roll of Lifesavers and handed them to me. “Jesus, Abs, you graduated with honors in the top two percent of your class. You know the law as well as anyone in that building. You’re going to be fine. Stop worrying.”

  “I’m more worried about the drama and politics than the job,” I said, sucking on the Lifesaver. “I mean, you’ve told me a dozen times that the place is a meat market. You said you get ahead by having sex with the partners. I’m not really cut out for that sort of thing.”

  “Oh my god, Abbie, are you back on that?” She put her hands back on my shoulders and gave them a firm shake. “Abs, nobody is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to. And CBG is no different from every other firm in the city. The place breeds drama because it’s full of lawyers. Just be yourself and you’ll be fine.”

  “I hope you’re right. Are you sure this outfit doesn’t make me look frumpy?”

  “Oh my god, you look great, now come on,” she said, taking my hand to lead me toward the door. “And remember, when you meet Sam Collins try not to cream your panties.”

  I tried to ask what she was talking about, but could barely catch my breath as she dragged me through the door.

  Abbie

  I was one of twelve new associates starting that day at Collins Bangham & Goode. I was one of six women, all of us recent grads around the same age. Three of us were from Harvard, one from Stanford, one from Cambridge, and one from NYU. I was the only one dressed like a lesbian frump. The others wore cute pencil skirts and silk blouses with matching jackets, and high heels to show off their calves and ankles. It was as if I missed getting the memo on how to dress the first day of work.

  The six guys were also young, fresh-faced grads, all decked out in the best suits their parents could afford, like a group of frat boys dressed up for a mixer with the dean. They ogled the female associates as if we were on auction and they were deciding which of us to bid on and how much to spend. Their eyes mostly lingered on the blonde from NYU with big boobs and a skirt a little shorter than I thought was appropriate. She flirted back with them while the rest of us rolled our eyes. The scene reminded me of that TV show Mad Men, where all the men in suits stood on one side of the room leering at the less-important female associates lined up on the other side. I did my best to ignore them, but I had to admit I was a little jealous of all the attention the blonde was getting.

  We were ushered into a large conference room for a PowerPoint presentation from the head of Human Resources, a dour-faced woman named Darlene something or other, who ordered us to turn off and put away our cellphones and pay strict attention to every word she said. She proceeded to read every bullet point on every slide of the presentation verbatim, and then went through the employee handbook reading aloud line by line.

  One of the male associates, a handsome young man in a dark blue suit leaned over and whispered to me as the HR woman droned on. “So basically, the handbook states that the firm owns us and we should be proud to be owned.”

  I glanced sideways at him and smiled. The employee badge clipped to his lapel read: Eric Huffman. I whispered back. “That appears to be the case.” Wow, what an absolutely-lawyerly thing to say. God, no wonder I can never get laid.

  Two hours later, the HR lady wrapped up her portion of the orientation, then brought in a guy to explain our health insurance and retirement packages, then another guy to discuss security issues; like how the employee badges worked to get us into certain places and to keep us out of others, the importance of good computer passwords, and how we should never talk about our work outside of the office unless it was in official meetings with clients with a partner present. He droned on for another thirty minutes about cyber security and hacking and competitive intelligence.

  “If you’re approached in a bar by a handsome man or beautiful woman, don’t assume they are hitting on you,” he said seriously, his forehead furrowed with lines. “They could be spies for other firms. Or spies from other countries with interests in the cases you’re working. Or undercover operatives for the FBI or the attorney general’s office.”

  “I’m sorry, did you say the FBI?” one of the male associates sitting at the other end of the table asked. “Why would the FBI or attorney general approach us undercover?”

  The IT guy glanced at the HR lady, who interrupted the presentation long enough to tell us to hold our questions for another time. I assumed the warning came from issues the firm had in the past. Something else to Google when I got home.

  The I
T guy resumed his lecture. Everyone pretended to pay attention though I saw a few heads bob now and then. Finally, when I thought he was never going to shut up, he rubbed his hands together and asked for questions. Before anyone could raise their hand, the HR lady quickly thanked him for his time and he briskly left the room.

  “Jesus, couldn’t they just waterboard us rather than putting us through this torture?” Eric asked. He offered me his hand. “Eric Huffman.”

  “Abbie Walsh,” I said, shaking his hand. I looked up to catch the HR lady glaring at us. I reeled my hand back quickly and gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

  “Now that the formalities are out of the way,” she said, clasping her hands together and holding them between her ample breasts. “It’s my honor to introduce you to the founding partners of our firm. Please welcome Sam Collins and Phyllis Goode.”

  She held out a hand toward the door behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see two very attractive people standing there. She looked flush and was tucking a stray strand of red hair behind her ear. He was adjusting his tie. If it wasn’t ten o’clock in the morning with dozens of attorneys and support staff milling around, I would have thought that they had just had sex. Then again, this was Collins Bangs ‘em Good…

  The first thing I noticed about Phyllis Goode as she led Sam Collins to the front of the room was that she could have been my mother, or at least my older sister. We looked a lot alike with our red hair, fair skin, and thin builds. Her long red hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and her makeup was modestly done, as was mine. She was tall and thin and carried herself with an air of confidence that I lacked. I wondered if she was nervous to the point of vomiting on her first day as a new attorney. I doubted it. Phyllis Goode impressed me as a woman who had always been confident and in control, perhaps because she had learned that she had to be a tough broad to rise to the top of an industry filled with domineering men.

  The moment I saw Sam Collins turn to face the room I realized what Tiff had meant when she had said, “When you see Sam Collins try not to cream your panties”.

  Just watching him stand next to Phyllis Goode with his hands in the pockets of his dark suit and a pleasant smile on his handsome face made me wiggle in my seat a little bit. The handsome young lawyer sitting next to me melted from my peripheral vision. All I could see was Sam Collins. I felt my cheeks flush as the seat beneath me grew warm.

  He was the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome man. He wore a perfectly tailored suit that probably cost more than I had spent on clothes in the past ten years, a starched white shirt and a red power tie and matching pocket square. His handsome face was deeply tanned and his hair was cut short and perfectly combed back from his forehead. He had little laugh lines at the corners of his steel blue eyes and a Kennedy jawline. All in all, he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen in real life. And I found myself melting into a puddle in my chair.

  Then he looked at me and his mouth fell open a little. I don’t mean that he glanced over and gave me a welcoming smile. I mean he was literally gawking at me with his mouth open, staring, his eyes burning into mine. I started to wonder if perhaps I had something on my face or a booger dangling from my nose. I subconsciously brushed a knuckle under my nose and mustered up a smile to direct back at him. He closed his mouth and smiled back.

  “So, welcome to you all,” Phyllis Goode was saying when Sam looked away from me, releasing me from his visual grip. I nervously cleared my throat and tried to concentrate on her words. I felt hot and fought the urge to fan myself with my employee packet.

  “Sam and I are thrilled that you have chosen to become part of the CBG team. Unfortunately, Mr. Bangham was unable to be here this morning, but I know that he would welcome you, too.”

  She cut a sideways glance at Sam, as if there was more to the story than we were being told. I couldn’t wait to get home and Google the three partners to get a much larger scoop of dirt than what Tiffany had seem fit to dish up.

  “Over the next twelve months, you have my personal guarantee that we are going to work you to death.” She smiled and let her eyes go around the room. Her glance lingered on me longer than anyone else, probably because I reminded her of herself. At least that was my assumption. Maybe she was staring at me with such intensity for some other reason, though I had no clue what that would be.

  She continued, “You’ll be rotated every three months to work with different junior partners in all specialties: litigation, criminal defense, corporate law and of course, divorce, which is the fastest growing segment of our practice.”

  “More people are divorcing than killing each other,” Sam said with a smile that immediately went around the room. Everyone chuckled along with him except Phyllis, who managed a curt smile and a roll of her eyes.

  “Yes, anyway, we do this rotation schedule to give you the opportunity to determine which discipline suits you best during your first twelve months with the firm,” she said, drawing our attention back to her. “Then you can apply to go permanently into the discipline you have the greatest aptitude for. You might have never thought about criminal defense until you work in it for three months. Or corporate law.”

  “Or divorce law,” Sam chimed in, bumping her playfully with his elbow. I got the feeling that they weren’t just partners, but friends. Good friends. Maybe even lovers or more. Don’t ask me how I knew such things. It was just a vibe I got sometimes. Tiff said I had a gift for reading people. It wasn’t a gift. It’s just that some people are easy to read, like the two attractive lawyers at the front of the room who had a connection that went far beyond routine business.

  Phyllis ignored his comments and plodded on. “After this orientation, we will have a luncheon where you will meet other senior partners and get your first assignment. And if there’s anything I can do to help you get settled in, please don’t hesitate to ask.” She turned to Collins and held out her hands. “Sam? Comments? More divorce lawyer jokes?”

  “I just want to welcome all of you,” he said, his face turning serious as his eyes swept the room again. This time his gaze did not linger on me, although I got the feeling that he passed me by quicker than he had the others this time.

  “We are pretty informal here,” he said with a sigh. “But we are also very dedicated to doing the best job possible for our clients. As Phyllis said, we are going to work you to death over the next twelve months, but if you work hard and listen and learn, you’re going to come out the other side as great fucking lawyers.”

  Everyone in the room, especially the women, seemed to hang on his every word. It wasn’t just that he was sexy as hell. His words drew us to him like baby moths to a flame. Then the oddest thing happened. Sam Collins looked directly at me and added, “If you let me teach you, I promise I can make you great.”

  I saw Phyllis give him a sideways glance, as if he had gone off script and she was wondering what the heck he was gonna say next.

  He wants to teach me, the little voice in my head whispered. Imagine, the things he could teach me…

  “Do we get to choose who we work for, Mr. Collins?” the buxom blonde from NYU asked. She was sitting at the end of the table with her fingers laced together and her arms pushing her boobs together.

  We all turned to look at her. She ignored us. She only had eyes for Sam Collins. She had straight blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders and was wearing a low-cut top that showed off the cleavage between her big tits.

  I wondered if she’d gotten the job because of her grades or her other apparent assets. I kid you not, there is an old saying about female lawyers: if you can’t win them over with your argument, win them over with your tits. I was pretty sure a man came up with that one.

  The blonde propped her chin on her knuckles and smiled at Sam. She cooed at him. “I mean, I’m already sure that my specialty will be divorce.”

  “No shit,” the guy sitting beside me mumbled from behind his hand.

  “You’ll rotate through like everyone,” Phy
llis answered, even though the question was directed at Sam. I watched her cheeks flush and got the idea that the blonde wouldn’t be around very long.

  “That’s too bad,” the blonde said with a sigh. She batted her long lashes a few times, but Sam was either unaffected or putting up a good front for his partner.

  “Okay, that’s all we have,” Phyllis said, turning to the HR lady, who had been standing off to the side with her hands clasped in front of her. “Helen, we’ll let you take it from here and we’ll see all of you shortly in the luncheon.”

  Phyllis Goode started out of the room with Sam Collins close behind. She glanced at me as she passed, then quickly looked way. He looked at me and smiled.

  Tiffany was right.

  I’d just come face to face with Sam Collins and I felt my warm juices soaking the crotch of my panties.

  Sam

  I didn’t really notice the redhead sitting at the back of the room until I followed Phyllis to the front and turned around to face the group. Phyllis’ juices were still damp on my cock. I could taste her on the tip of my tongue. All of which made it a little difficult to concentrate until I saw the young redhead staring at me.

  When Phyllis pulled up her skirt to reveal that she wasn’t wearing panties, my cock immediately went rock hard, like a switch had been thrown in my brain that had a direct line to my crotch. I quickly locked the door and had my pants down around my ankles by the time I made it back across the room. Phyllis had pulled the skirt up to her waist and was sitting on the edge of the desk with her legs spread, her pink pussy exposed, moist and ready for me.

  She wrapped her fingers around my stiff cock when I moved to stand between her legs, tugging on it slowly, back and forth, milking the long shaft as she cooed in my ear.